THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIML  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


i^!*«UtCCU£ 


CiJ9i 


O^^V^.    V)V^x^.  r^Ou.\< 


FRONTISPIECE— The  Soldiers  Mail.     P.  216. 


ANDY  11  ALL, 


THE 


iissiott  Sdjolar  in  i\t  %xmi 


BY 

CAROLINE   E.    KELLY, 

AUTHOE  OF   "bEEXICE,"    "GRACE  HALE,"   ETC. 


BOSTON: 

No.  9  CornhiU. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  hj 

HENRY   HOTT, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


CONTENTS 


I.    ROXY'S  HOME 3 

n.    STEAL  OH  STARVE— WHICH? 14 

m.    MRS.  PROCTOR'S  VISIT 23 

rV.    ANDY 35 

V.    A  CHRISTIAN  HOME 45 

VI.    MR  WALLACE'S  MISSION  SCHOOL 56 

VTL    LILY  KENT 70 

Vm.    ROXY 81 

IX.    ANDY  AGAIN 92 

X.    ROXY'S  CHRISTMAS 104 

XI.  THE  BEGINNING  OF  A  NEW  LIFE  FOR  LILY  117 

Xn.    ANDY'S  PROmSE 127 

Xm.    ALMOST  HOPELESS 140 

XIV.    ANDY'S  CONVERSION 150 

XV.    AUNT  BECKY 161 

XVI.    MRS.  HALL'S  NEW  HOME , 173 

X\TI.    ENLISTED! 183 

XYIU.    CHRIST'S  SOLDIER 194 

XIX.    FIRST  PRAYER  MEETING  IN  CAMP 206 

XX.    SOLDIERS'  LETTERS 216 

XXL    WOUNDED 227 

XXn.    IN  HOSPITAL 238 

XXm,    AT  HOME.. 249 


602985 


ANDY  HALL, 

THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARMY. 


CHAPTER  I. 


^^^  ATHER'S  coming  I  " 
^i  c^   not  iov  in  the  shrill 


'^ 


There  was  fear, 
joy  in  the  shrill  little  voice  that 
'^t-^  uttered  these  words,  and  Roxy  Hall,  a 
deformed    and   helpless  cripple,    cast 
a  terrified  glance  towards   the  door. 
"  Father's  coming  !  " 

How  sad,  that  the  sound  of  his  step  on  the 
stair  should  bring  a  deeper  shadow  to  Roxy's 
clouded  brow,  and  almost  stop  the  beating  of 
her  feeble  heart !  How  sad  that  in  her  miser- 
able home,  "father's  coming"  was  the  event 


ANDY    K.VLL, 


most  dreaded,  not  by  the  little  hunchback 
alone,  but  by  her  rough  l^rother  Andrew,  and 
her  slipshod,  discouraged  mother  ! 

Do  you  ask,  why  was  it,  you  to  whom 
fiither's  coming  crowns  the  happy  day  with 
delight?  you  who  cling  around  his  neck,  or 
sit  upon  his  knee,  or  stand  by  his  side,  and 
cover  him  with  your  kisses  and  caresses  ? 

I  will  tell  you.  It  was  because  Roxy's  fath- 
er, or,  as  he  was  faniiliai4y  known  in  the 
wretched  neighborhood,  "  Tipsy  Bill,"  was  a 
drunkard,  and  instead  of  smiles  and  loving 
words,  brought  with  him  to  his  home,  only 
curses  and  blows. 

"  Father's  coming  !  "  and  at  the  words  the 
sickly,  misshapen  child  crept  away  from  the 
dying  embers  upon  the  hearth,  and  hid  her- 
self under  the  ras^s  that  served  as  a  coverinof 
for  her  bed  of  straw,  in  the  darkest  corner  of 
the  wi-etched  garret.  Meanwhile  Mrs.  Hall, 
with  her  bony  fingers,  turned  over  the  con- 
tents of  an  old  basket,  to  see  if  perchance 
there  remained  a  bit  of  bread  or  meat  for  the 


il 


THE   MISSION    SCHOLAR   IN   THE   AR3IY.        5 


supper  which  lier  husbaud  was  sure  to  de- 
mand. Ill  vain  was  the  search,  and  as  the 
door  opened  to  admit  his  loathsome  figure, 
she  pushed  it  from  her,  and  crouched  despair- 
ingly closer  to  the  hearth. 

Somewhat  less  intoxicated  than  usual,  and 
consequently  more  quarrelsome,  Tipsey  Bill 
threw  himself  down  upon  the  floor,  and  after 
a  brief  pause,  called  out  in  a  grufi:'  angry 
voice, 

"Hullo,  there,  Judy  !  you  'sleep  or  dead  — 
which?" 

His  wife  replied  by  raising  her  head  and 
casting  a  quick  glance  upon  his  soiled  and 
bloody  face. 

"  Where's  your  supper,  old  woman  ?  " 

"  I  ha'n't  seen  any,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"  Perhaps  you  ha'n't,"  and  Bill  raised  him- 
self on  his  elbow,  and  glared  upon  her  with 
the  look  of  a  wild  beast.  "Perhaps  you  ha'n't ; 
but  the  best  thing  for  you  to  do,  if  you  want  a 
whole  bone  left  in  your  body,  is  to  pick  up 
something  for  me  to  eat,  and  that  right  spiy." 


6  ANDY   HALL, 

"  I  have  Iniiitcd  the  victuals  basket  all  over, 
and  there's  nothing  in  it  l)ut  potato  peelings, 
and  a  lobster  shell,  and  two  rotten  apples. 
You  can  beat  me  if  you  want  to,  but  I  can't 
make  something  out  of  nothing,  and  I  a'n't 
going  to  try." 

"  Beat  ye  !  Beating's  too  good  for  ye  !  HI 
do  something  more'n  that,  if  you  don't  get  up 
and  2:0  to  work.  See  here  ! "  and  the  ruffian 
drew  from  his  rags  a  long  knife,  and  smiled 
savagely  as  he  noted  the  scared  look  that 
passed  over  his  wife's  attenuated  features  at 
the  sight.  "Xow  up  with  ye,  Judy;  and  if 
there's  nothing  in  the  basket,  go  out  into  the 
street.  There's  enough  to  eat  in  the  world, 
and  I've  as  good  a  right  to  it  as  anybody :  but 
if  ye  come  back  empty  handed,  you  know 
what  to  expect ! "  and  he  placed  the  sharp 
point  of  the  knife  with  terrible  significance 
against  his  breast. 

"xVndy'll  be  in  'fore  long,"  ventured  the 
woman,  casting  a  quick  glance  towards  the 
corner    were    poor    little  Koxy    lay    shaking 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAR   IX   THE    ARMY. 


with  fear.  "  It's  stinging  cold,  and  I  ha'n't 
so  much  as  a  rag  to  cover  my  head.  I  giiess 
he'll  bring  something  for  us  all.  There's 
more  hungry  than  you,  Bill ;  I'm  most  starv- 
ed myself." 

*'  Then  start  yourself  out,"  cried  BiU,  with 
a  terrible  oath.  "  What  are  you  waiting 
for?" 

Poor  Judy  slowly  arose  from  her  seat  on 
the  hearth,  and  drew  her  ragged  gown  up 
over  her  bosom,  holding  it  there  with  purple 
fingers,  and  under  pretence  of  searching  for 
something  to  cover  her  head  and  shoulders, 
drew  near  little  Roxy's  bed,  and  stooping 
over  it,  whispered, 

"  Keep  still,  or  he'll  kill  ye  !  " 

The  child  needed  no  such  injunction,  but 
she  cowered  closer  to  the  wall,  and  hid  her 
face  in  the  straw,  scarcely  daring  to  breathe, 
as  the  door  closed  upon  her  mother,  and  she 
felt  that  she  was  alone  with  a  father  who 
hated  her. 

How  long  she  lay  thus  she  could  not  telL 


8  ANDY    JIALL, 


It  scomrcl  many  hours  —  in  reality  it  Avas  not 
a  great  many  minutes,  ^vben  tlic  sound  of  An- 
dre^v''s  step  on  the  stairs  fell  like  the  sweetest 
music  upon  her  ear.  He  came  rusliing  in, 
whistiing  a  street  song,  stumbled  over  his 
fiither  in  the  darkness,  answered  the  angiy 
oath  that  greeted  him  with  another,  and  going 
to  the  window,  set  his  basket  down  upon  the 
floor. 

Roxy  ventured  to  raise  her  head,  and  saw 
by  the  faint  light,  her  brother  picking  over 
the  cold  bits  that  he  had  brought  with  him. 
He  was  a  stout-built,  broad-shouldered  lad  of 
fourteen,  with  quick,  bright  eyes,  a  large 
mouth,  and  dark  hiir  that  hung  like  coarse 
shag  uver  his  cheeks,  his  ragged  cap  was  set 
far  back  on  his  head,  and  drawn  down  over 
his  left  ear,  and  his  jacket  and  trowsers  were 
BO  tattered  and  soiled  it  would  have  been  a 
puzzle  to  discover  their  original  color  and 
texture. 

lioxy  wondered  if  he  would  remember  her, 
and  save  a  bit  of  bread  for  her  supper,  but  she 


THE   MISSION    SCHOLAR   IX   THE   AEjIY.         9 


was  afraid  to  whisper  his  name  lest  her  father 
should  hear ;  so  she  lay  back  again  upon  her 
hard  bed,  and  tried  to  forget  how  hungiy  and 
cold  she  was.  Through  a  crevice  in  the  roof 
over  her  head  she  could  see  a  beautiful  light 
sparkling  in  the  blue  sky.  Xight  after  night, 
she  had  lain  *  there  and  watched  it  when  her 
poor  limbs  were  aching  and  her  nerves  quiv- 
ering with  pain,  and  sometimes  it  looked  so 
warm  and  bright  that  she  wished  she  could 
hold  it  just  a  moment  in  her  thin  cold  hands. 
Andrew  wa«  not  long  in  examining  the 
contents  of  his  basket.  Two  or  three  choice 
bits  of  bread  and  a  dough-nut  he  selected  and 
laid  carefully  aside  iM|pn  the  window-sill, 
took  a  bacon  bone  for  his  own  supper,  and 
then,  at  his  father's  angry  demand,  tossed  the 
few  remaining  crusts  and  bones  towards  him, 
and  stood  by  the  window  alternately  whisthng 
and  gnawing,  until  every  particle  of  meat  was 
devoured.  Then  he  looked  longingly  at  the 
tempting  bits  of  bread,  and  the  nicely  browned 
dough-nut,  for  his  keen  appetite  was  very  far 


10  ANDY    HALL. 


from  satisfied ;  indeed,  the  salt  bacon  had 
seemed  rather  to  sharpen  it.  But  ^\-iis  not 
this  small  store  saved  for  a  jDurpose?  Should 
he,  a  strong,  hearty  lad  of  fom-teen,  draw  from 
it  so  much  as  a  crumb,  when  his  little  pale 
sister  was  ahuost  fainting  for  food?  ]S'o, 
indeed.  A  mischievous,  rough,  and  wicked 
fellow  was  Andrew  Hall,  but  there  was  one 
soft,  warm  spot  in  his  heart,  and  that  was  his 
affection  for  poor  Roxy,  and  he  would  sooner 
have  starved  than  leave  her  supperless. 

Soon  after  eating  Tipsy  Bill  fell  asleep, 
and  Andrew,  who  had  been  watching  for  thii», 
gathered  up  the  bits  of  bread,  and  stole  to 
Roxy's  side. 

"I'm  real  glad  ;^u've  come,  Andy,"  said 
the  child,  cift'cssing  the  rough  hand  that  fed 
her,  with  her  purple  fingers.  "  I  was  so  'fraid, 
w^hen  mother  went,  and  left  me  alone  with 
him,  but  I  a'n't  'fraid  now." 

"  She'd  no  business  to  go  away  and  leave 
you,"  said  Andrew.     "AVhat  made  her?" 

''  Father.     He  told  her  to  go  and  get  some- 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAK    IX    THE    AEMY.      11 


thing  to  eat.  Why  dou't  he  bring  home  bread 
for  us?" 

"  He !  "  and  Andrew  shook  his  hard  fist  at 
the  form  lying  prostrate  on  the  floor.  "  I 
wouldn't  call  him  father  if  I  were  you,  Roxy. 
Hate  him,  just  as  I  do." 

Rox}^  knew  her  brother  too  well  to  continue 
a  subject  that  irritated  him  ;  so,  still  clasping 
his  hand,  she  drew  it  up  under  her  thin  cheek, 
and  whispered, 

"  I  a'n't  hungry  a  bit,  now.  I've  had  a  real 
good  supper,  and  now  I'm  going  to  sleep, — 
but  how  cold  it  is,  Andy,"  and  a  shiver  ran 
through  her  feeble  frame. 

Andrew  made  no  answer,  but  sat  a  few 
minutes  thinking.  Proently,  drawing  his 
hand  away  from  hers,  he  pulled  ofi'his  ragged 
jacket,  and  wrapped  it  round  Roxy's  feet, 
then  his  old  vest,  and  threw  it  over  her 
shoulders. 

"  What  you  doing,  Andy  ?  " 

"  That's  nothing  to  you.     Go  to  sleep." 

"  Are  you  cold,  Andy  ?  " 


12  ANDY    HALL, 

"  No  ;  hold  your  tongue,  and  go  to  sleep,  I 
say." 

Thus  grulfly  admonished,  Eoxy  closed  her 
eyes,  but  in  a  moment  they  flew  open,  and 
fixing  them  upon  the  light  that  still  shone 
through  the  crevice  in  the  roof,  she  pointed 
upwards  with  one  bony  finger,  and  said,  tim- 
idly, "I'll  goto  sleep  in  a  minute,  Andy  — 
only  tell  me  what  is  shining  up  there  ?  I've 
seen  it  lots  of  times,  and  it's  real  pretty. 
What  is  it,  Andy?" 

"  A  star." 

"Who  put  it  there?" 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  There's  bushels  of 
'em  in  the  sky  eveu  night,  and  that's  all  I 
know  about  it." 

Eoxy  turned  her  face  to  the  wall,  and  again 
shut  her  eyes.  Andrew  sat  beside  her  until 
he  knew  by  her  regular  1)reathing  that  she 
was  asleep  ;  then  he  went  to  tlie  hearth,  where 
the  fire  had  long  since  gone  out,  and  sitting 
down  on  the  bricks,  pushed  his  feet  and  hands 
into  the  still  warm  ashes,  leaned  his  shaggy 


THE    MISSION    SCIIOLAPt    IX    THE    AEIMY.      13 

head  against  the  chimney,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes he  too,  slept. 

Meanwhile  where  was  the  poor  wife  and 
mother,  who  had  gone  forth  into  the  frosty 
night  air  to  seek  for  food ! 


CHAPTER  n. 

P  the  narrow,  dirty  lane,  and  into  a 
broad,  well-lighted  street,  went  Judy 
Hall,  cold,  hopeless,  and  wretched. 
She  was  not  ashamed  to  beg ;  she  had 
done  it  more  than  once  before ;  but 
it  was  late  now ;  men  were  hurrj^ing  towards 
bright,  warm  homes,  who  would  not  stop  on 
the  way  to  bestow  charity  or  speak  a  kind 
word  to  her.  Standing  under  a  lamp-post, 
with  the  light  shining  upon  her  white,  despair- 
ing face,  she  stretched  out  her  hand,  and  as- 
sumed the  whining  beggar  tone,  "  Please,  sir, 
give  me  a  penny.  I've  a  sick  husband  and 
little  children,  and  we  are  starving."  But 
none  turned  to  see  whence  the  voice  came ; 
none  listened  to  the  pitiful  cry. 


THE    MISSIOX    SCnOlAR    IX    THE    AEMY.      15 

"  It's  no  use,"  muttered  Judy,  after  shiver- 
ing  tlius   a  quarter    of  an.  hour,   "I  might 
stand  here  and  freeze  before  anybody  would 
help  me."     She  turned  away,  therefore,  and 
w;ilking  along  a  few  steps  further,  paused  in 
front  of  a  baker's  shop,  and  gazed  wistfully  in 
at  the  window.     Bread,  bread  in  abundance, 
on  the  counters,  tresh  and  white;  and  on  the 
shelves,  nice  cakes  of  all   descriptions,  just 
what  they  would  so   much  like,   but  what  she 
never  had.     ^\Tay  not?    Why  might  not  Eoxy 
enjoy  delicate  food  like  other  children,  instead 
of  the  refuse  crusts  and  bones  that  a  gentle- 
man's  dog  would  not  eat?      Was  not  Eoxy 
sick  and  feeble  ?    What  had  she  done  to  merit 
such  a  fate?      These  and  many  other  ques- 
tions of  a  like  bitter  nature,  passed  through 
poor  J«dy's   brain,  as  she   stood  looking  hi 
upon  the  crowded  counters  and  shelves."  A 
gentleman  opened  the  door  and  went  in.    She 
saw  him  walk  to  the  farther  end  of  the  long 
shop  and  stand  there,  talking  with  the  sales! 
man.     As  their  conversation  became  more  an- 


16  AXDY     HALL, 


imatecl  and  eager,  slie  drew  closer  to  the  door. 
It  was  ajar. 

Castiug  one  look  at  the  two  men,  whose 
backs  Avere  turned  towards  her,  and  a  hasty 
glance  into  the  street,  she  softl}'  pushed  tlio 
door  an  inch  wider,  crept  noiselessly  in,  seiz- 
ed one  small  loaf  from  the  hundreds  that  lay 
upon  the  counter,  and,  swift  as  thought,  sped 
away. 

"  Xow  Roxy  should  have  some  supper ; 
Eoxy  should  not  go  to  sleep  hungry."  Judy 
had  just  time  for  this  thought,  when  a  fh'in 
hand  grasped  her  arm,  and  turning  her  fright- 
ened face,  she  found  herself  in  the  keeping  of 
the  police. 

"  O,  let  me  go  !  "  she  cried,  her  limbs  shak- 
ing, and  tears  rolling  down  her  checks.  "  I 
was  starving !     Eoxy  will  die  !     Do  let  me 


go! 


"  You're  going  as  fast  as  you  can  to  the 
lock  up,"  shouted  a  rude  bo}^  who  looked  on 
with  great  interest  and  apparent  amusement. 
The  poor  creature  begged  and  prayed  to  be 


THE   MISSION   SCHOLAR   IN   THE   ARBIY.      17 

allowed  to  return  to  her  home,  but  the  police- 
man must  do   his    duty.      In  vain  were  her 
prayers,  and  sobs,  and  tears.     What  was  it  to 
him  that  she  had  a  suffering  child,  ^vho  would 
perhaps  die  while  she  was  away?     What  was 
it  to  him  that  she  was  hungry  and  without  a 
penny  in  the  world?     The  laws  must  be  exe- 
cuted;   this  woman    had  broken  them;    she 
must  suffer  the  consequences.     This  was  only 
one  of  hundreds  of  similar  cases,  and  utterly 
failed  to  move  him.      He  hurried  her  along 
over  the  slippery  pavement,   anxious  only  to 
get  her  off  his  hands,  and  return  to  his  duty. 

Just  as  they  reached  'the  station-house,  a 
benevolent  looking,  plainly  dressed  gentleman, 
stopped  them  a  moment.  The  woman's  ao-n- 
mzed  face,  raised  in  mute  appeal  to  his  own, 
went  straight  to  his  heart. 

"  ^Yhat  has  she  done  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Took  her  up  for  stealing." 

"What?" 

"Bread." 

"  We  were  starving,"  broke  in  poor  Judy. 


18  AKDY   IIALL, 


*'  I  beijo^ed,  and  besffifed,  but  no  one  would 
hear  me.  Roxy  '11  die  without  me  to  see  to 
her  !  O,  sir,  can't  you  get  me  off  and  let  me 
go  home  ?  " 

"  Not  to-night,  my  friend,"  replied  the  gen- 
tleman, so  kindly  that  it  softened  the  disap- 
pointment she  felt.  "I  can  do  nothing  for 
you  now,  but  I  will  try  and  help  you  to-mor- 
row." He  inquired  the  address  of  the  baker, 
and  bidding  her  take  courage,  went  on  his 
way. 

"  Yery  easy  to  tell  me  take  courage,"  mur- 
mured Judy,  as  the  door  was  locked  behind 
her,  and  she  found  herself  in  a  small,  square 
room,  cheerless,  cold,  and  dimly  lighted  by  a 
single  lamp.  There  were  two  or  three  hard- 
featM£(Bd,  coarse  women  grouped  together  in 
one  corner,  but  Judy  scared}^  glanced  at  them. 
She  was  thinking  of  little  Roxy  and  her  drunk- 
en husband  ;  and  their  \n.ilgar  jests  and  bursts 
of  hoarse  laughter,  fell  unheeded  upon  her 
ear.  It  was  long  after  midnight  before  her 
heavy  lids   closed  over  her  aching  eyes,  and 


THE   MISSION   SCHOLAR   IN   THE   ARMY.      19 


then  her  slumber  Tvas  broken  by  the  frequent 
opening  of  the  door  to  admit  some  vagrant 
woman. 

In  the  morning  came  Judy's  trial  at  the  po- 
lice court,  and  for  the  offence  committed,  she 
was  lined  two  dollars  and  costs. 

"  Two  dollars  and  costs  !  "  repeated  the  poor 
woman,  with  a  groan,  "  I  have  not  a  penny 
in  the  world.     What  then  ?  " 

"  Tvro  months  in  the  house  of  coiTection." 

"  Two  months  away  from  Roxy  !  "  It  was 
a  bitter  thought,  for  the  mother-instinct  was 
still  warm  in  her  heart.  She  raised  her  dim 
«yes  appealingly  to  the  face  of  the  judge,  but 
not  a  ray  of  hope  was  to  be  drawn  from  it ; 
he  had  turned  from  her,  and  had  probably 
forgotten  her.  But  at  this  moment,  Kl^hen 
hope  had  fled,  relief  vras  at  hand.  The  gen- 
tleman who  had  stopped  her  on  the  way  to 
the  station-house  the  previous  evening,  now 
appeared,  and  kindly  bade  her  go  home  to 
Roxy. 

"  But  I  have  no  money,"  said  Judy. 


20  ANDY   HALL, 


"  I  have  paid  the  fine  for  you,"  replied  her 
unknown  friend,  "  and  you  are  at  liberty. 
What  work  can  3'ou  do  ?  " 

"I  can  wash  and  iron,  but  I  don't  know 
who  would  hire  me,  and  I  a'n't  very  strong; 
besides,  I  don't  like  to  leave  Eoxy  alone  ;  she 
is  sick,  and  so  afraid  of  her  father ;  and  there's 
nobody  to  see  to  her  but  Andrew,  and  he 
don't  stay  at  home  much." 

"  You  could  sew  on  coarse  cloth,  perhaps?" 

"  I  couldn't  sit  long  at  a  time  ;  it  gives  me 
a  pain  in  my  side  and  shoulders,  but  I  could 
sew  some,  if  I  had  it.  Onlv  what  a'ood  would 
it  do  for  me  to  slave  myself  to  earn  money 
just  for  him  to  spend  for  rum? " 

"  How  do  you  live  ?  What  have  you  to  live 
upon^^" 

"  Andrew  manages  to  pick  up  cold  victuals 
in  one  place  and  another,  and  sometimes  I  go 
out  begging  myself." 

•  "It  is  a  poor  way  to  live,"  said  the  gentle- 
man, still  kindly,  "  though  better  to  beg  than 
to  steal." 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAR    IX    THE    ARMY.      21 

"I  never  stole  in  my  life,  till  last  night," 
cried  Judy,  with  more  spirit  than  she  had  yet 
shown,  "and  I  wouldn't  then,  but  he  threat- 
ened to  kill  me  if  I  came  home  without  some- 
thing to  eat;  and  I  was  cold  and  hungry.  You 
was  never  hungry,  sir,  and  you  don't  know 
what  it  is  to  feel  it  gnawing,  gnawing  away, 
here,"  laying  her  hand  upon  her  heart,  and 
fixing  her  deep,  hollow  eyes  upon  his  face. 
"  Oh,  I  wish  I  and  Eoxy  was  dead,  I  do." 
"  My, friend,  are  you  ready  to  die  ?  " 
"  Eeady  ! "  repeated  Judy.  "  A  body's  ready 
to  die  when  they  are  tired  and  sick  of  liv- 
ing." 

"  But  there  is  another  life  after  this ;  are 
you  ready  for  that  ?  " 

"It  can't  be  worse  than  this,  if  there  is  an- 
other. I've  seen  folks  die  before  now,  folks 
that  have  been  as  poor  as  me,  and  when  the 
breath  left  'em,  their  faces  would  look  as 
smooth  and  pleasant  as  any  rich  lady's  in  the 
land.  That's  the  way  mine  and  Eoxy's  '11 
look,  after  we  die,   and  I  a'n't  afraid  of  any- 


22  ANDY   HALL, 


thing  to  come.  AVe'll  be  as  well  off  as  the 
most  of  folks,  I  guess." 

"  '^Jy  wife  will  call  and  see  you,"  said  the 
gentleman,  when  Judy  paused.  "  You  live 
in  ]\Iercer-lane  ;  what  number  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  It  is  the  last  building  at 
the  corner  of  Mercer-lane  and  Green-street, 
up  four  flight,  in  the  garret.  But  she  needn't 
come ;  she  can't  help  anything,  and  it  is  no 
place  for  fine  ladies." 

"  Here  is  a  dollar.  Buy  food  for  Boxy  and 
yourself,  poor  woman,  and  perhaps  something 
may  be  done  to  help  you  yet." 

Jud}'  took  the  bank  note,  and  her  bony  fin- 
gers closed  over  it,  but  she  uttered  no  word 
of  thanks.  Her  benefactor  passed  up  the 
street,  and  she  stood  looking  after  him,  until 
he  was  lost  among  the  crowd ;  then  she  turn- 
ed away  and  hurried  homeward. 


CHAPTER   m. 

OXY  was  awake  when  her  mother 
came  home.  Her  father  had  gone 
■f;^:^  out,  and  so  had  Andrew,  after  prom- 
JU^^  ising  to  retm'u  with  something  for  her 
breakfast  as  soon  as  possible.  She 
was  tired  of  waiting  thus  alone,  for  it  was 
bitterly  cold,  and  the  sun  never  came  in  at 
the  two  dirty  little  windows.  She  shivered 
on  her  bed  of  straw,  and  wondered  how  it 
would  seem  to  have  a  warm,  bright  fire,  and 
a  good  breakfast,  but  as  soon  as  she  caught 
sight  of  her  mother's  spiritless  face,  she  smil- 
ed, and  forgot  that  there  was  anything  griev- 
ous in  her  lot.  Such  a  magical  charm  is  there 
in  the  mother's  face  for  the  little  child. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you've  come,"  she  said,  put- 
ting out  her  thin  hand ;  "  I  thought  you  were 

23 


24  AXDY    TTALL, 

going  to  sta}^  away  all  the  time,  and  I  never 
would  see  3^ou  any  more.  You  wont  go  away 
again,  will  you?" 

"I  shan't  it'  I  can  help  it,"  and  the  poor 
woman  sat  down  on  the  floor  close  beside  the 
bed,  and  brushed  her  fingers  over  Roxy's  pale 
locks.     "  Why  didn't  Andrew  make  a  fire  ?  " 

"  He  is  going  to  when  he  comes  back  ;  there 
wa'n't  but  a  little  wood  and  chips  that  he 
brought  up  last  night  from  the  wharf,  so  he 
said  he  wouldn't  light  'em  till  he  came  back, 
and  then  I  might  get  up  and  wann  me  ;  I  wish 
I  could  get  warm,  mother ;  my  feet  and  hands 
are  so  cold." 

Judy  did  not  say,  "  poor  chikl !  "  or  "  my 
darling  !  "  Her  lips  were  unused  to  caressing 
words,  but  she  took  Eoxy's  numb  feet  in  her 
hands,  and  rubbed  them  until  they  felt  quite 
comfortable,  and  then  she  kindled  the  fii-e, 
and  put  some  water  in  a  tin  basin  to  heat. 

While  she  was  about  it,  Andrew  came  in. 
He  looked  sour  and  surl}^  enough  when  he 
saw  that  his  mother  had  returned,  and  was 
using  up  his  fire-wood. 


THE   MISSION    SCHOLAP.    IX    THE    AE:MY.       25 


"  What'll  you  do  wlieu  that  is  all  gone  ? " 
he  asked  in  an  angry  voice.  "  I  can't  get  any 
more,  and  sha'n't  at  any  rate." 
'  "  I've  got  some  money  for  some  coal,"  re- 
turned his  mother,  "  and  I  should  send  you 
to  get  it,  if  I  wasn't  afraid  to  trust  you  with 
it.  I'll  have  a  fire  for  once,  if  I  never  do 
again." 

Andrew's  face  reddened,  and  an  angry  re- 
tort was  on  his  lips,  when  Roxy's  feeble  voice 
interposed. 

"  Did  you  bring  me  something  to  eat, 
Andy?" 

"  Yes,  a  whole  slice  of  bread,  and  a  bit  of 
good  meat ;  but  you  must  make  the  best  of  it, 
for  I  sha'n't  bring  you  any  more  to-day,  Rox}^ 
I'm  going  off  with  some  fellows,  and  sha'n't 
come  back  'fore  to-morrow,  so  long's  mother's 
come." 

He  laid  the  food  upon  her  bed,  and  went 
away,  banging  the  door,  and  running  down 
stairs  four  steps  at  a  time. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  pleasant  to  Andy, 


26  ANDY    H-VLL, 

mother?"  asked  Roxy,  after  a  pause,  ^' the 
wa}'  you  do  to  me." 

"Because  he's  a  good  for  nothing  rogue, 
and  sarcy  to  me.  If  you  was  sarcy  like  himf 
I  shouldn't  speak  pleasant  to  you." 

"  He  was  real  good  to  me  while  you  were 
gone  away,  mother,"  persisted  Roxy,  after  a 
brief  pause.  *'  He  covered  me  over  with  his 
jacket  and  vest,  and  wouldn't  say  that  he  was 
cold.  I  don't  think  Andy's  naughty  all  the 
time,  mother." 

"Well,  you'd  better  hold  your  tongue,  and 
eat  3^our  breakfast.  I've  got  something  to 
think  of  besides  Andrew,  or  you  either." 

Thus  admonished,  Roxy  kept  still  for  a  few 
minutes,  watching  the  fire  as  it  crackled  and 
sparkled  on  the  hearth.  It  was  a  pleasant 
and  very  unusual  sight  to  her,  and  the  warmth 
was  so  oi-ateful  to  her  chilled  limbs  that  she 
smiled  as  she  crept  nearer  to  it,  and  stretched 
her  hands  out  towards  it.  Soon,  however, 
her  thoughts  began  to  wander  away  from  her- 
self to  a  little  girl  who  lived  in  the  opposite 
garret,  and  she  said  pleadingly, 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAR   IN   THE    AR3IY.      27 


'' Mother,  why  wont  you  let  Sally  Green 
come  in  and  warm  her  by  our  fire  ?  " 
♦  Xow  Mrs.  Hall  and  Sally's  mother  were  not 
on  good  terms.  As  if  they  had  not  enough  to 
sufier  of  poverty  and  want,  they  added  to 
each  other's  discomfort  by  constant  quarrels 
and  disputes ;  therefore  Eoxy's  proposition 
was  met  by  an  angry  refusal,  and  a  sharper 
injunction  to  hold  her  tongue,  unless  she 
wanted  to  be  left  alone  for  the  rats  to  carry 
her  off. 

Xo  additional  threat  was  required  to  insure 
silence  on  the  part  of  the  timid  child.  She 
sat,  or  rather  lay  upon  the  floor,  resting  her 
aching  back  against  the  chimney,  with  lier 
hands  clasped  over  her  knees,  and  her  large 
blue  eyes  fixed  upon  the  fire. 

The  thoughts  of  this  untaught  child  we 
may  not  know.  The  eight  short  years  of  her 
life  had  been  passed  in  the  midst  of  misery 
and  sin.  She  had  witnessed  such  scenes,  and 
heard  such  blasphemies  as,  God  grant,  none 
who  read  this  history,   may  ever  witness  or 


28  AXDY    HALL, 


hear.  She  had  never  known  the  sweetness  of 
caresses ;  even  the  kindness  shown  by  her 
mother  and  Andrew,  was  of  that  rough,  hard 
nature,  that  chills  the  warm  heart  and  admits 
of  no  return  ;  and  yet,  deep  down  in  Roxy's 
heart,  there  was  a  fountain  of  tenderness 
ready  to  gush  up  at  the  iii'st  touch  of  a  Joving 
hand.  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  with  these 
forlorn  ones,  who  breathe  out  their  little  lives 
in  the  dark  places  of  the  eaith,  but  I  do  be- 
lieve "  that  in  heaven  their  angels  do  always 
behold  the  face  of  the  Father  which  is  in 
heaven,"  and  will  not  He  who  kept  the  three 
men  in  the  furnace,  so  that  the  fire  had  no 
power  upon  their  bodies  —  wdll  not  He  keep 
the  souls  of  these  "  little  outcasts  from  life's 
fold,"  from  the  flames  of  sin,  and  for  His  sake 
who  blessed  little  children,  save  tliem  in  the 
heavenly  land? 

The  silence  was  long  in  the  garret  after  ]Mrs. 
Hall's  threatening  words.  Eoxy  scarcely  stir- 
red, and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  tire  sat 
her  mother  in  her  usual  apathetic  manner. 


THE    MISSION   SCHOLAR   IN   THE   ARMY.      29 


Literally  she  had  nothing  to  do  —  no  beds  to 
make,  no  chairs  to  dust,  no  table  to  set,  no 
broom  to  sweep  with,  no  cloth  to  sew,  no 
yarn  to  knit ;  was  it  surprising  that  in  this 
state  of  bodily  and  mental  inactivity,  the  poor 
woman  grew  daily  more  helpless  and  despair- 
ing, and*  looked  forward  to  the  grave  as  the 
peaceful  end  of  her  dreary  life  ? 

It  was  somewhat  past  noon  when  Eoxy  was 
startled  by  the  unusual  sound  of  a  rap  on  the 
door.  She  looked  at  her  mother,  who  was 
sleeping  heavily,  and  fearing  to  awake  her, 
called  in  her  weak,  tremulous  accent,  "  come 
in." 

In  answer  to  this  invitation,  the  door  was 
pushed  open,  and  a  lady  entered  — such  a 
hidy  as  Eoxy's  wondering  ej^es  had  never  be- 
]ield.  She  was  young  and  fair,  with  sweet 
lips  and  smiling  eyes  that  looked  lovingly 
down  upon  the  unsightly  child  who  crouched 
lower  in  her  rags  at  the  vision  of  beauty. 
She  wore  neither  feathers,  nor  bright  flowers, 
nor  jewels,    but  her  dress  was  soft  and  rich. 


30  AKDY    HALL, 


and  her  voice  Avas  so  sweet  that  when  she 
spoke  Eoxy  held  her  breath  to  listen,  and  in 
listening  forgot  to  answer,  until  the  question 
was  thrice  repeated. 

"  Is  your  name  Roxy  —  Roxy  Hall  ?  " 

"Yes."       • 

The  lady  looked  about  her  for  a  seat,  but 
there  was  none  in  the  room,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  she  saw  what  poverty  was  here,  the 
smile  faded  from  her  face  ;  it  returned,  how- 
ever, hopeful  and  bright  as  before,  as  she 
turned  again  to  the  child,  who  watched  her 
every  motion. 

"You  are  sick,  arn't  you,  Eoxy?" 

"Xo,  I  guess  not,  only  my  ])ack  aches." 

"  Poor  little  back  !  it  ought  to  rest  against 
a  softer  cushion  than  that  chimney.  Does  it 
ache  all  the  time,  dear?" 

"Yes." 

Tears  rushed  to  the  beautiful  eyes  at  this 
reply.  There  was  a  patience  and  hopeless- 
ness in  the  feeble  voice  that  went  straight  to 
her  heart,*  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  she 
commanded  herself  to  speak  again. 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAR   IX    THE    ARMY.      31 


"  Is  that  your  mother,  Eoxy  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Is  she  ill?" 

"AVhat?" 

"  Is  your  mother  sick  ?  " 

"  Xo  ;  she  is  asleep." 

"  Cau  you  wake  her  ?  " 

"I  don't  like  to,  'cause  she's  cross*  when  I 
do." 

"Then  I  will,"  said  the  lady;  but  Judy 
awoke  of  herself  at  the  unusual  sound  of 
voices,  and  slowly  rose  from  the  floor,  rub- 
bing her  eyes,  and  looking  rather  ashamed. 

"You  are  Mrs.  Hall,  I  suppose?"  said  the 
lady,  holding  out  her  hand.  Judy  declined 
taking  it  —  no  wonder  that  she  hesitated  to 
take  the  slender  white  fingers  in  her  hard  and 
dirt-grimmed  palm  —  but  answered  civilly, 

"  Yes,  that's  my  name." 

"  And  mine  is  ]Mrs.  Proctor,"  said  the  lady. 
"  ^ly  husband  told  me  about  you  and  your 
little  Rox}%  and  I  thought  I  would  call  and 
see  you.  I  would  like  to  do  something  to 
help  you,  if  I  may." 


"32  AXDY    HALL, 

"Itoldliiin  you'd  better  not  come,"  said 
Judy.  "  I  told  him  it  wasn't  the  place  for  fine 
ladies,  and  you  can  see  for  yourself  that  it 
isn't.  I  haven't  so  much  as  a  chair  for  you 
to  sit  down  on." 

"  Never  mind  that ;  I  can  stand  very  well ; 
'  but  it  is  hard  for  your  little  girl  to   sit  upon 
the  floor  with  her  weak  back." 

"  O,  she's  used  to  it ;  she  don't  mind  it,  and 
it's  well  she  don't." 

"But  I  may  send  her  a  chair  with  a  cushion, 
may  I  not?  It  would  be  so  much  easier  for 
her." 

Judy  laughed,  a  bitter,  hollow  laugh. 

"  You  may  send  it  if  you  want  to,"  she  re- 
plied, "  but  in  less'n  twenty-four  hours  it'll 
be  sold  for  rum.  I  can't  keep  anything  that 
he  can  sell.  I  had  some  chairs  once,  and  a 
table,  and  a  bed,  but  where  are  they  now? 
He's  drunk  'em  up,  every  one,  so  what's  the 
use  of  trying  ?  " 

"  But  perhaps  he  would  not  sell  Eoxy's 
chair,"  said  Mrs.  Proctor,  gently,  "  if  he  knew 
it  was  a  comfort  to  her." 


THE    mSSIOX   SCHOLAR    IX   THE    AEMY.     33 


"  He'd  take  it  first  of  anytliing,  just  fur  that 
veiy  reason,"  iutermpted  Judy  ;  "  it's  just  all 
I  can  do  wlieu  lie's  at  home  to  keep  him  from 
beating  her." 

"  Beating  that  poor  child  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Proctor,  inexpressibly  shocked.  "  Surely  he 
is  not  so  cruel  as  that ! " 

"Yes,  he  is.  He  can't  bear  to  see  her 
round,  and  the  minute  she  hears  him  comincr, 
she  creeps  off  to  bed  out  of  his  way." 

"Where  is  her  bed?" 

Judy  pointed  to  the  dark  corner,  where  the 
bundle  of  straw  and  rags  was  just  visible. 

"  Does  she  sleep  there  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  it's  better'n  than  the  floor,  where  I 
sleep." 

"  Certaiuly  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Proctor,  "very 
much  better ;  but  I  was  thinking  there  is  one 
thing  I  can  do.  I  can  send  a  nice  soft  pillow 
for  her  bed,  and  it  is  so  dark  up  in  that  snug 
corner,  that  it  may  escape  your  husband's  no- 
tice, so  she  will  rest  more  easily  at  nio-ht. 
Should  you  like  that,  Eoxy?" 


34  ANDY    HALL, 

Eoxy  did  not  answer,  though  she  was  sure 
that  an}i;hing  the  lady  sent  would  be  beauti- 
ful and  nice. 

"  She  don't  know  what  a  pillow  is,  she  never 
saw  one,"  remarked  her  mother,  by  way  of 
apologizing  for  Eoxy's  silence,  "  but  then 
she'll  like  it." 

^Irs.  Proctor  did  not  prolong  her  visit  at 
this  time.  There  was  everj^thing  to  be  done 
for  this  wretched  family,  but  how  to  begin  to 
help  them  was  a  puzzling  question  which  she 
felt  that  her  husband  must  help  her  to  solve. 
So  she  bade  Mrs.  Hall  good  afternoon,  and 
stooping,  left  a  soft,  sweet  kiss  on-Roxy's  fore- 
head. Then  she  went  away,  and  the  little 
garret  which  had  been  lighted  by  her  pres- 
ence, grew  dark  and  dreary  again. 


CHAPTER  lY. 

* 

^^  T  was  on  Saturday  that  Mrs.  Proctor 
^       called  to  see  ]Mrs.  Hall  and  Roxy,  and 
it  will  be  remembered  that  it  was  on 

fthe  same  day  that  Andrew  left  them, 
"w^ithsome  fellows,"  to  be  gone,  he 
said,  until  "to-morrow."  That  to-morrow 
was  Sunday — the  Lord's  day ;  but  neither  An- 
drew nor  his  companions  had  been  thought  to 
reverence  its  sacred  hours.  To  them  it  was 
like  any  other  day  in  the  week.  True,  they 
heard  the  sweet  chiming  of  church  bells,  and 
saw  crowds  of  well  dressed  people  gathering 
together  in  their  different  places  of  worship, 
but  they  knew  not  nor  cared  why  it  was. 
Between  those  rustling  garments  of  silk  and 
velvet  and  fine  cloth,  and  their  own  soiled  and 
tattered  garments,   there  was  a  barrier  deep 


36  ANDY   HALL, 


and  wide,  a  barrier  which  they  felt  to  be  im- 
passable. The  elegant  stone  churches  were 
made  for  the  rich — not  for  them  in  their  squal- 
or, even  had  they  wished  to  enter. 

Andrew's  companions,  like  himself,  were 
idle  and  profane,  seeing  mischief  and  delight- 
ing in  it  as  all  idlers  do.  They  passed  Satur- 
day afternoon  and  evening  on  the  wharves, 
begging  of  the  sailors,  until  about  nine  o'clock, 
when  Andrew  offered  "to  treat."  At  the 
nearest  oyster  saloon  they  stojDped.  It  was  a 
low,  dirty  place,  the  air  thick  with  tobacco 
smoke,  and  strongly  scented  with  bad  Avhis- 
ke}',  but  these  poor  boys  were  not-  fastidious. 
Andrew  led  them  in,  and  seating  himself  at  a 
table,  ordered  "stews  for  four." 

"  Whiskey,  too,"  suggested  Sam  James,  the 
oldest  and  most  wretched  of  the  party.  "  Don't 
be  mean,  Hall.    Let's  have  a  drop  of  whiskey." 

"  I  ain't  mean,"  returned  Andrew  with  an 
oath ;  "  but  if  you  have  anything  to  drink, 
you'll  have  to  get  it  yourself ;  I  can't  raise  Ijut 
a  quarter." 


.       THE   MISSION   SCHOLAR   IN    THE    AP^IT.      37 

"  I  ha'ii't  got  lj>ut  a  shilling,"  rejoined  Sam, 
"but  111  let  it  go,  rather'n  not  have  something 
lively."  Accordingly  the  whiskey  was  ordered, 
and  the  boys,  imitating  the  example  of  the 
rouo'h  lookins:  men  who  sat  and  lounsred  about 
the  room,  svrallowed  the  "  liquid  fire,"  and 
di-ained  their  glasses  with  bursts  of  wild  laugh- 
ter, and  amid  profane  and  low  jests.  It  was 
not  until  a  late  hour  that  the  voice  of  the  bar- 
keeper warned  his  3'oung  .customers  to  leave 
their  seats  by  the  fire,  and  go  about  their  busi- 
ness. Andrew  was  far  from  his  home,  and 
knew  not  whither  to  go  for  a  mght's  rest,  but 
more  than  once  he  had  slept  under  the  logs 
and  lumber  of  the  wharves,  and  if  need  be  he 
could  do  it  again.  Sam  James,  and  his  other 
companions,  went  away  by  themselves,  when 
they  reached  the  end  of  the  street,  while  An- 
drew, whose  brain  was  reeling,  and  whose 
steps  were  uneven,  was  left  alone.  He  stood 
for  some  minutes  undecided  what  course  to 
take.  It  was  a  bitterly  cold  night,  and  sleet 
and  snow  were  falUng  fast,     If  he  turned  in 


38  AXDY   HALL, 


the  direction  of  the  whan^es  the  storm  would 
beat  iu  his  face  ;  if  he  kept  on  up  the  street 
towards  home,  it  was  very  uncertain  when,  if 
at  all,  he  would  find  shelter  for  the  night. 
Poor,  miserable  boy !  The  strong  drink  was 
working  in  his  brain  ;  he  shook  in  every  limb  ; 
his  feet  were  growing  numb  with  the  cold  ;  if 
he  remained  in  one  position  longer,  he  would 
be  unable  to  move,  so  gathering  up  his  resolu- 
tion, he  walked  along  up  the  street,  keeping 
in  the  shadow  of  the  houses  as  much  as  possi- 
ble ,  in  order  to  save  himself  from  the  violence 
of  the  storm,  which  increased  rapidly,  and  also 
to  avoid  the  notice  of  the  watchman.  At  the 
close  of  about  half  an  hour,  he  stopj^ed,  feel- 
ing utterly  unable  to  go  another  step.     He 

was  in  front  of  a  brick  block  on avenue. 

The  lights  were  out ;  all  was  still ;  if  he  could' 
lie  down  under  the  porch  and  sleep  until  morn- 
ing, how  happy  he  would  be  !  Only  to  sleep 
and  to  rest,  though  he  had  but  a  granite  rock 
for  a  pillow,  would  be  so  sweet !  Weary  and 
aching  in  every  hmb,  he  crawled  up  the  broad 


THE    MISSION   SCHOLAE    IX   THE   ARJIY.       39 


steps,  and  threw  himself  clown  at  the  thres- 
hold of  the  door,  determining  to  awake  and 
be  off  in  the  morning  before  light.  But  it 
was  after  sunrise  when  his  heavy  eye-lids  un- 
closed;  he  had  slept  heavily  and  long,  and 
would  have  slept  longer  still,  had  not  a  hand 
been  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  a  voice  said, 
not  unldncLly,  close  to  his  face, 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  boy  ?     Sick,  eh  ?  " 
Andrew  sprang  up,  and  rubbing  his  eyes 
with  his  benumbed  fingers,  ansAvered, 

"  I  got  caught  out  in  the  storm,  and  hadn't 
any  place  to  sleep  in,  so  I  came  up  here.  I 
a'u't  sick,  but  my  head  aches." 

"You've  been  drinking  —  that's  what  ails 
you,"  rejoined  the  man,  sternly.  "Aren't 
you  ashamed  of  yourself —  such  a  bo}^  as  you 

—  not  more  than  a  dozen  years  old " 

"  I  am  fourteen,"  interrupted  Andrew,  "  be- 
sides, I  havn't  been  drinking." 
.  "Don't  tell  a  lie,  sir.  Isn't  it  bad  enough 
to  do  a  wicked  thing  without  trying  to  hide 
it  ?  I  can  tell  b}'  the  looks  of  your  eyes  and 
face." 


40  ANDY    HALL, 


Andrew  looked  angrily  at  his  ne^y  acquaint- 
ance. He  was  a  man  of  nnddle  age,  with 
grey  hair  and  rough  but  kindly  countenance. 

"  Take  my  advice,  boy,  and  never,  never 
touch  another  drop  of  spirits  while  you  live. 
It  will  ruin  you  body  and  soul ;  I  know  what 
it  is  to  be  the  slave  of  a  whiskey  bottle :  I 
tried  it  thirt^'-live  years  of  my  life,^and  should 
have  been  a  drunkard  this  day,  but  for  my 
master,"  pointing  towards  the  house.  "  He 
found  me  and  helped  me  when  everybody 
else  despised  rae,  and  he  kept  a  sharp  look 
out  for  me  till  I  became  a  sober  man,  and  now 
he  employs  me  in  his  familj",  and  m}^  home 
is  here.  But  I  tell  you,  boy,"  he  resumed 
after  a  moment's  pause,  ''I'll  tell  you  it  is 
hard  to  break  off  an  old  habit ;  it  is  like  tak- 
ing the  ver}^  life  out  of  you.  Just  make  up 
your  mind  now  you're  young  that  you'll  keep 
from  drink,  and  3'ou  will  never  have  to  suffer 
what  I  have.     AVout  you  promise  ?  " 

Andrew  stood  kicking  his  feet  against  the 
stone  steps.     Certainly  he  was  not  so  bright 


THE   jSnSSIOX   SCHOLAK   II^T   THE   AEMY.      41 


or  happy  after  drinking  spirits,  that  he  need 
persist  in  it,  but  then  —  why  should  he  pro- 
mise?—  why  give  his  word  to  this  strange 
man,  and  so  resign  his  liberty  to  'do  as  he 
pleased  ? 

"  Wont  you  promise,  boy?" 

"  No,  I  wont,"  said  Andrew  doggedly.  "  I 
wont  promise  any  such  thing.  Men  drink, 
and  boys  drink,  and  women  drink,  and  men 
sell  liquor  and  get  rich  by  it.  Til  do  as  other 
folks  do." 

"  Other  folks  do  wrong,  and  they  have  to 
suffer  for  it  in  the  long  run,"  replied  the  man. 
"Are  they  happy,  do  you  think?  You've  seen 
'em  staofirerino^  home,  cursins:  and  swearinsr ; 
you've  seen  how  the  little  children  run  from 
them,  frightened  and  trembling,  haven't  you?" 

Yes,  indeed,  all  this  and  more,  had  Andrew 
seen  in  his  own  miserable  home.  He  had 
seen  poor  little  Roxy  creep  away  to  her  dark 
corner,  to  hide  there  her  white  face ;  he  had 
seen  his  mother  shrink  in  horror  from  the 
heavy  hand  that  hesitated  not  to   deal  blows 


42  ANDY   HALL, 


upon  her  slender  form ;  he  himself  had  fled 
more  than  once  out  mto  the  street,  to  escape 
the  insane  wrath  of  a  drunkard ;  and  this 
drunkard  —  this  man  who  brous^ht  curses  and 
misery,  where  he  should  have  brought  gentle 
words  and  happiness — was  Andrew's  owti 
father !  Was  there  any  thing  so  alluring  in 
the  pictures  that  flashed  through  his  brain  as 
he  stood  listening  to  the  earnest  words  of  his 
stranger  friend,  that  he  should  wish  to  pro- 
long them,  or  make  them  even  more  real? 

The  man  unable  to  follow  Andi^ew's  thoughts, 
saw  that  he  hesitated,  and  spoke  again  still 
more  earnest^  than  before. 

''Just  think  of  it,  my  boy,"  he  said. 
"You'll  gain  nothing  in  health,  in  purse,  or 
in  respectability,  by  drinking.  I  tell  you 
there's  nothing  to  hinder  you  from  becoming 
a  smart  man  —  I  can  see  it  your  eye  —  if  you 
will  only  make  up  your  mind  to  let  strong 
drink  alone.     Have  you  a  mother?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Andrew,  in  a  surley  tone. 

"  Is  she  a  good  mother  ?  '* 


THE   ]\nSSION   SCHOLAR   IN   THE   AR^IT.     43 

"  I  don't  know  whether  she  is  or  not." 

"You  know  whether  you  love  her,  or  not?" 

"  Humph  !    I  never  thought  anything  about 
it.     I  don't  stay  at  home  much." 

"Why  not?" 

"  'Cause  it  a'u't  much  of  a  place  to  stay  in  ; 
and  it's  awful  when  the  old  man  is  there." 

"  Who  is  that?  Your  father?  What  is  the 
trouble  with  him  ?  " 

"He's  a  drunkard,"  and  Andrew  dropped 
his  ej^es  as  he  answered. 

"  Poor  boy  !  Isn't  that  enough  to  keep  you 
sober?  I  need  tell  you  nothing  more,  for  you 
know  it  all  yourself;  you  have  it  in  your  own 
home  ;  the  want,  the  wretchedness,  the  woe ; 
and  yet,  j'ou  refuse  to  promise  to  keep  your- 
self sober  ? " 

AndreAV  was  fast  growing  vexed  ;  besides  he 
was  cold,  and  very  hungry.  He  answered 
sharply,"  "  It's  nothing  to  you,  anyway,  what 
I  do.  If  I've  a  mind  to  drink,  I  shall  do  it. 
I  wish  I  had  some  whiskey  this  minute  to 
warm  myself  with." 


44  AXDY  n.\i.L, 


"  Sure  enough,  you  must  be  in  need  of 
something  after  staying  out  here  in  the  storm 
all  night,"  said  his  friend.  "  Come  right 
round  to  the  back  door,  and  warm  yourself 
by  the  kitchen  fire,  and  I'll  get  Ann  to  giA'e 
you  a  cup  of  hot  coffee,  and  some  bread  and 
butter;  then  you'll  feel  better.  Oh,  come 
right  along,"  seeing  the  boy  hesitated.  "  ]My 
master  and  mistress  would  be  vexed  enough, 
if  I  let  you  go  away  from  their  door,  cold  and 
hungry ;  come  along." 

Thus  urged,  Andrew  followed  his  guide  to 
the  kitchen,  where  he  was  shown  a  comfort- 
able seat  by  the  fire,  and  soon  Ann,  with  a 
pleasant  smile,  drew  a  little  table  close  up 
beside  him,  and  brought  bread,  meat,  and  hot 
coffee  for  his  refreshment.  How  thoroughly 
he  enjoyed  all  this  comfort,  my  reader  can 
imagine  far  better  than  I  am  able  to  describe. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

UST  as  Andrew   was    swallowing    the 
last  mouthful  of  bread,  the  door  lead- 
mg;  from  the  kitchen  to  the  dininij-room 
ojDeued  slowly,  and  a  little  girl  appear- 
ed.    She   stood  looking  at  the  strange 
boY  from  under  the  shadow  of  her  short  brown 
curls,  with  a  half  shy,  half  curious  look,  and 
as  he  pushed  back  his  chair  and  took  his  hat 
to  go,  she  came  a  step  nearer,  and  said,  in  a 
voice  that  sounded  like  sweet  music, 
"What  is  your  name,  boy?" 
"  Andrew  Hall." 
"  Where  do  you  live  ?  " 
"In  Mercer-lane." 

"  I  don't  know  where  Mercer-lane  is,  but  I 
guess  my  papa  does,  for  he  knows  all  about 
the  city.     Have  you  any  little  sisters?" 


46  AXDY    HALL, 


"Yes,  one." 

'*  What  is  her  name  ?  " 

"Eoxy." 

"  Is  she  as  big  as  I  ?  " 

"  No  ;  she  is  only  eight  years  old." 

"AVell,  I  am  not  eight  yet.  I  am  only 
seven.  AVhy  isn't  she  as  big  as  I?  Is  she 
pretty?" 

"Pretty  enough,  but  she's  sick  and  lame, 
and  she  can't  walk  like  3-0 u." 

"Why,  what  does  she  do  when  she  wants 
to  go  anywhere  ?  " 

"  She  creeps  along  on  her  hands  and  knees, 
but  she  never  goes  out  into  the  street." 

"  O,  dear,  how  sorry  I  am  for  the  poor  ht- 
tle  girl.     I  should  like  to  see  her." 

"  ]N'o  you  wouldn't,"  said  Andrew,  shortly. 
"  It  would  make  you  almost  sick.  She  don't 
look  well  and  clean  like  you,  and  her  clothes 
are  all  ragged  and  dirty." 

"  I'll  go  and  ask  mamma  to  let  me  send  her 
one  of  my  gowns  ;  you  wait  till  I  come  back, 
wont  you,  Andrew  Hall?" 


THE   MSSION    SCHOLAR   IN   THE   AE3IY.      47 

"  It  a'n't  any  use.  I  a'u't  going  home  this 
morning,  and  I  don't  want  to  bother  about 
it." 

At  this  moment  some  one  called  from  the 
dining-room, 

"  Lily  !  "  and  the  pretty  child  answered, 
"Yes,  papa,  I'm  coming;  only  please  look 
here  one  minute,  and  speak  to  Andrew  Hall." 
Andrew  glanced  towards  the  street-door, 
very  anxious  to  avoid  meeting  the  gentleman 
of  the  house,  and  to  make  his  escape,  but  be- 
fore he  could  reach  it,  Lily's  father,  Mr.  Kent, 
appeared. 

"  Have  you  had  as  much  breakfast  as  you 
wish  for,  Andrew?"  he  asked,  in  the  kindest 
of  voices. 

"Yes,"  said  Andrew,  hanging  his  head,  and 
twisting  his  cap  in  his  nervous  fingers. 
"  And  are  you  warm  enough  ?  " 
"Yes." 

"/always  say,  yes,  sir,  to  papa"  interrupt- 
ed Lily. 

To  this  observation  Andrew  made  no  reply, 
but  his  brown  cheek  flusJied  a  little. 


48  ANDY    ITALL, 


"  What  are  3-011  going  to  do  \\itli  yourself, 
to-day?"  asked  Mr.  Kent. 

"Don't  know." 

"  Can  \i)\i  tell  me  what  day  it  is  ?  " 

"  Xo,  I  don't  know." 

"  Why,  it  is  Sunday,"  again  interposed 
Lily.  "  Don't  you  go  to  church  or  Sunday 
School,  Andrew?" 

"  No." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  go?" 

"  No,  I  don't." 

"  Why,  it  is  just  as  nice  as  can  be  at  Sunday 
School,  isn't  it,  papa?"  and  Lily  gave  her 
father  an  appealing  look,  that  said  as  plainly 
as  words  could  have  done,  ^'You  tell  him  how 
nice  it  is,  and  ask  him  to  go." 

Mr.  Kent  smiled,  and  bidding  Lily  go  up 
stairs  and  ask  mamma  if  she  were  ready  for 
prayers,  he  turned  again  to  Andrew,  who  was 
gradually  edging  near  the  door,  and  said, 

"  Suppose  you  spend  the  day  with  me,  An- 
drew. If  you  are  not  going  home,  it  will  be 
much  better    for  you  than    wandering  about 


THE   JUSSIOX   SCHOLAR    IX    THE    AEJIT. 


49 


the  streets.  You  shall  hare  a  good  dinner 
and  supper,  and  I  think  you  will  enjoy  it. 
V.  ill  you  staj-?" 

The  prospect  of  a  good  dinner  and  suoper 
was  pleasant  enough.  Andrew  was  almost 
inclmed  to  say  yes,  but  there  was  something 
m  the  appearance  and  manner  of  Mr.  Kent° 
kind  as  he  was,  that  he  felt  as  a  restraint,  and 
longed  to  throw  off. 

"Taylor,  the  man  who  found  you  asleep  on 
my  door-step  this  morning,"  continued  Mr 
Ivent,  "tells  me  that  you  have  an  intemper- 
ate father.  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it;  it 
must  be  worse  for  your  little  sister  Eoxy  than 
for  you,  if  she  is  a  sickly,  lame  child,  as  I 
heard  you  telling  my  daughter  she  was.  Does 
your  father  abuse  her?" 

"Xot  when  she  keeps  out  of  his  way,  but  . 
sometimes,"  and  here  his  voice  choked,  and  a 
cnmson  iJush  dyed  cheek  and  forehead,  "some- 
times  he  strikes  her!" 

"  Poor  little  thing  I  "  said  Mr.  Kent,  observ- 
ing Andrew's   emotion,  and  guessing  from  it 


50  ANDY   IIALL, 

his  affection  for  Eoxy.      "  What  do  you  do  to 
make  it  pleasant  for  her  at  home  ? '' 

The  boy  looked  up  in  his  face  with  a  puzzled 
countenance. 

"  Vrhat  do  you  do  to  amuse  your  Uttle  sister  ? 
It  must  he  very  sad  and  lonely  for  her." 

"  I  get  her  'most  everything  she  has  to  eat, 
but  I  can't  stay  in  the  house  ;  there's  no  fun 
in  it." 

**  Mamma  has  come  down,  and  sister  Hilary 
is  ready;  come,  papa,"  and  Lily,  tripping 
through  the  dining-room,  caught  her  fiithers 
hand  ;  "  and  papa,"  she  added  in  a  loud  whis- 
per, "  please  ma3'n't  Andrew  Hall  come  to  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  he  will,"  replied  Mr.  Kent.  "  An- 
drew, I  would  like  to  talk  a  while  longer  with 
you,  but  it  is  the  hour  for  family  worship. 
Come  up  stairs  to  the  library  with  me,  and 
after  prayers  I  shall  be  at  leisure  for  a  short 
time." 

Andrew  had  not  the  slightest  idea  what  was 
meant  by  ''  famih^  worship,"  and  he  was  grow- 
ing every  moment  more  anxious  to  get  away 


THE   MISSION    SCHOLAR   IX   THE   ARMY.     51 

from  the  grave,  earnest  eyes,  that  seemed  to 
look  straight  into  liis  heart ;  he  was  going 
to  say  no,  in  answer  to  Mr.  Kent's  invitation, 
when  Lily  added  in  her  sweet,  persuasive 
voice, 

"  Come,  Andrew  Hall,  and  you  will  hear 
my  sister  Hilary  play  a  1)eantiful  hymn  on  the 
piano."  It  was  not  so  much  what  she  said, 
as  the  svyeet  smile  that  accompanied  the  words, 
which  led  Andrew  to  follow  her  light  steps  up 
the  broad,  carpeted  stairs,  through  the  hall 
and  into  the  liln-ary,  where  Mrs.  Kent  and 
Miss  Hilary  sat  waiting.  He  took  the  chair 
nearest  the  door,  at  Lily's  suggestion,  and 
looked  on  with  gi'eat  curiosity  as  Taylor,  Ann, 
an  another  young  woman  entered,  and  seated 
themselves  near  him.  lsh\  Kent  named  a 
hymn,  when  all  vras  quiet,  and  Miss  Hilary 
plaj'ed  a  very  svN^eet  prelude  upon  the  piano- 
forte, and  then  all  joined  in  singing  : 

*'  S  ifely  through  another  -n-eek, 

God  has  brought  us  on  our  way; 
Let  us  now  a  biesiing  seek, 

Waiting  in  his  courts  to-daj': 
Day  of  all  the  w^.c-k  the  best, 
Emblem  of  eteruai  rest." 


52  AXDY     HALL, 


All  but  Andrew.  He  sat  with  his  fiice  hnlf 
hidden  in  his  ragged  eap,  listening  with  a 
beating  heart,  to  the  beautiful  melod}'.  He 
never  thought  of  the  sentiment  of  the  words, 
but  the  music  awakened  all  that  Avas  no])le 
and  good  in  his  nature,  and  he  looked  ujion 
Miss  Hilary,  whose  pure,  clear  voice,  led  the 
others,  as  one  would  look  upon  an  angel. 
The  hymn  was  sung  to  its  close,  and  then]\Ir. 
Kent  read  and  explained  a  passage  from  St. 
Mark's  gospel.  But  this,  too,  was  lost  upon 
Andre w%  in  whose  ears  the  strains  of  music 
were  still  ringing,  and  who  never  once  re- 
moved his  dark  eyes  from  Miss  Hilary's  face. 
After  the  chapter  came  the  prayer.  All  knelt 
devoutly,  all  ])ut  Andrew,  who  sat  still,  and 
watched  the  others.  One  petition  caught  his 
wanderins:  thouirhts,  and  fixed  them  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  it  w  as  a  fervent  petition  that  God 
would  bless  the  poor  stranger  boy,  and  teach 
him  to  forsake  all  evil  ways,  so  that  the  Sav- 
iour would  own  him  for  his  disciple  and 
friend. 


THE    MISSION    SCIIOLAr.    IX    THE    AEMT.      53 


Andrew  was  very  far  from  compi  ehending 
the  import  of  this  prayer  ;  he  had  never  heard 
God's  holy  name,  save  in  profane  uses ;  he 
was  as  ignorant  of  Jesus,  as  the  children  in 
heathen  lands ;  but  there  was  a  solemnity  of 
manner,  an  earnestness  of  voice  that  touched 
him,  and  filled  him  with  confused, and  new 
thoughts,  and  he  felt  a  desire  to  learn  the 
meaning  and  design  of  a  service  so  strange  to 
him. 

After  prayers  were  over,  and  the  servants 
dismissed,  Mr.  Kent  repeated  his  invitation 
to  Andrew,  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  day 
with  him ;  and  the  invitation  was  seconded 
by  Mrs.  Kent,  whose  mother's  heart  went  out 
towards  the  forlorn,  rough-looking  boy.  The 
inducement  of  dinner  and  supper  was  also 
again  presented,  for  Mr.  Kent  judged  rightly, 
that  if  he  would  help  the  starving  soul,  he 
must  also  sujDply  the  wants  of  the  body. 

"  I  don't  care  about  anything  to  eat,"  broke 
in  Andrew,  almost  sharply,  "  if  she,"  pointing 
with  his  dirty  finger  to  Miss  Hilar}^  "  will  only 
make  some  more  music  on  that  thing  !  " 


54  ANDY    HALL, 


"O,  I  will  play  tor  you  with  pleasure,"  said 
Miss  Hilaiy,  smiling.     "  Do  yoii  like  music?" 

Andrew  Avas  afraid,  rough  as  he  was  to 
aiiswer,  but  his  eyes  sparkled,  and  he  drew  a 
step  or  two  nearer  the  instrument. 

^liss  Hilary  took  her  seat,  and  touched  the 
white  keys  with  her  finirers. 

"  Please  pla}^  '  I  have  a  Father  in  the  prom- 
ised land,'  sister,"  said  Lily.  "  He  will  like 
that,  I  know." 

Andrew  looked  as  if  he  would  like  any- 
thing that  ]Miss  Hilary  would  play.  He  stood 
and  listened,  until  the  breakfast  bell  rang, 
and  she  was  obliged  to  stop. 

"  You  will  come  down  to  the  kitchen,  now, 
Andrew,"  said  Mrs.  Kent,  pleasantly,  "  and 
after  breakfast  I  will  see  if  I  can  find  a  jacket 
and  cap  for  you  to  wear  to  Sunday  School 
and  church. 

"  And  I  will  play  some  more  for  you  by- 
and-by,"  added  Miss  Hilary. 

"  Those  are  the  hymns  we  sing  at  Sunday 
School,"  said  Lily,   as  she  opened  the  kitchen 


Andy  listening  to  the  Pianno,  -P.  54 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAR    IX    THE    AEilY.      55 


door,  "  and  you  vrill  learn  to  sing  them  all,  if 
you  will  only  go,  and  I  will  ask  papa  to  give 
3'ou  a  hymn-book  for  your  own,  and  then  you 
can  sing  to  your  sister  Eoxy." 

Dear  little  Lily  I  she  could  not  keep  Andrew 
out  of  her  thoughts,  but  all  through  breakfast 
time  was  making  her  simple  plans  for  his  in- 
struction in  the  Sunday  School  which  she  so 
dearly  loved,  while  her  parents  suffered  her  to 
prattle  on,  unrebukecl,  glad  to  find  her  thus 
early  in  life,  interesting  herself  for  others. 

The  moment  she  was  at  liberty,  Lily  ran  to 
the  kitchen  to  see  if  Andrew  had  decided  to 
stay.  Her  cheeks  were  glowing,  her  eyes 
bright,  her  lips  smiling,  she  opened  the  door, 
gave  one  quick  glance  around  the  room,  and 
burst  into  tears.     Audi'ew  was  gone  ! 


if 


^r^^  CHAPTER  YI. 

<f^rt  HILE  I  was  in  the  cellar,"  said  Ann, 
^  "he  took  his  chance  to  go.     First  I 
thought  perhaps  he'd  stolen  some- 
thing and  made  off  with  it,  but  when 
I  looked  around    the  room  everything 
was  in  its  place." 

"Poor  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Kent,  drawing  Lily 
close  to  her  side,  and  kissing  her.  "lam 
sorry  that  he  has  gone,  but  we  all  tried  to 
keep  him  :  perhaps,  my  darling,  he  will  come 
again." 

"  Oh,  we  will  find  him  —  never  fear,  Lily," 
said  her  father.  "  AVe  know  his  name  and 
the  street  on  which  he  lives ;  cheer  up,  my 
little  girl." 

^  I  wanted  him  to  go  to  Sunda3''-School  with 
us,"  sobbed  Lily,  "  and  I  thought  perhaps  I'd 

56 


THE    MISSIOX    SCHOLAR    IX    THE    AE5IY.      57 


give  him  one  of  my  pictm-e  books  for  Eoxy. 
I  think  it  is  too  bad." 

It  was  a  great  disappointment  to  the  en- 
thusiastic child,  but  she  wiped  her  eyes,  and 
went  away  to  prepare  for  church  somewhat 
comfoi-ted  by  her  father's  assurance. 

Meanwhile,  Andrew,  seizing  the  opportunity 
when  Ann  was  in  the  cellar,  made  his  escape. 
Never,  until  to-day,  had  the  thought  of  his 
tattered  garments,  and  uncleanly  person  given 
him  trouble  or  dissatisfaction,  but  now  it  oc- 
curred to  his  mind  that  he  was  unfit  to  be 
in  the  company  of  such  ladies  as  Mrs.  Kent 
and  Miss  Hilary.  He  was  much  more  than 
half  inclined  to  go  to  the  Sunday-School, 
where  hymns  were  sung,  but  as  he  sat  in  the 
kitchen  and  thought  of  the  sorry  figure  he 
would  make,  where  all  was  tidy  and  nice,  he 
fiilly  decided  to  do  no  such  thing,  and  as  he 
felt  quite  unable  to  withstand  the  entreaties 
of  Lily,  he  concluded  to  avoid  them ;  hence 
his  abrupt  departure.  He  ran  a  few  steps, 
then  paused  and  looked  about  him.     It  was  a 


58  ANDY   HALL, 


clear,  cold  morning,  after  the  storai  of  the 
previous  night ;  the  trees  were  covered  with 
ice  crystals,  that  sparkled  in  the  sun  like 
splendid  gems ;  the  church  ])ells  sent  forth  a 
happy  peal  of  music,  as  he  stood  apparently 
lost  in  thought ;  people,  passing  hurriedly 
along,  glanced  carelessly  at  the  thinly  clad 
boy,  but  none  stopped  to  speak  to  him  ;  none 
remembered  that  here  was  a  young  soul ;  an 
inheritor  of  immortality,  standing  at  the  thres- 
hold of  life,  and  sure  to  walk  in  the  broad 
path  of  folly  and  vice,  unless  pointed  to  the 
better  way,  and  encouraged  to  walk  therein. 
True,  some  mothers  there  were,  who,  leading 
happy  children  by  the  hand,  cast  a  pitying 
glance  at  the  rough,  hard-featured  lad,  and 
thanked  God  that  their  own  lambs  were  safe 
from  contact  with  such  as  he  ;  and  one  or  two 
boys  and  girls,  with  bright  faces  and  smooth 
curls,  wondered  why  he  stood  there  alone, 
with  such  a  sullen  countenance ;  but  none 
gave  him  either  word  or  smile.  Standing  thus, 
with  his  face  turned  towards  the  house  he  had 


THE    MISSION    SCPIOLAR    IX   TflE    AE3IY.      59 


lately  left,  he  at  length  saw  the  hall  cloor  open, 
and  Miss  Hilary  come  out  followed  by  Lily. 
He  watched  them  until  they  turned  the   first 
corner,  then,  pulling  his  cap  closer  down  over 
his    eyes,    he    ran   after    them,    keeping    far 
enough  behind  to  escape  their  observation. 
They  walked  fast,  for  it  was  rather  late,  and 
Andrew  saw  them  enter  a  fine   church,   the 
spire  of  which  seemed  almost  to  pierce  the 
clouds.      As    they    disappeared,   and  others ' 
crowded  up  the  broad  steps,  Andrew  turned 
awa}^,  and  sauntered  down  the  street.     It  had 
been  a  singular  morning  to  him.     It  was  some- 
thing  very   unusual   to   have    a   good  warm 
breakfast ;    still  more   unusual  to  have  kind 
words  and  looks  bestowed  upon  him ;   but  the 
strangest  and  sweetest  thing  of  all,  was  that 
hour  in  the  library ;  the  praj^er,   the  music, 
and  the  beautiful  sins^ino^,  that  still  lino-ered 
in  his  ear,  and  seemed  to  shut  out,  for  a  little 
while,  evil  thoughts  and  desires.     He  began 
to  regret  that  he  did  not  remain,  where  all 
was  so  good  and  peaceful,  in  spite  of  his  rag- 


60  ANDY    HALL, 

ged  and  soiled  clothes,  instead  of  running 
away,  and  to  wish  thai  he  might  have  another 
opportunity.  But  there  was  little  chance  of 
his  having  a  second  invitation,  after  his  treat- 
ment of  the  first.  Thinking  thus  of  his  morn- 
ing's adventures,  he  met  a  grey-haired,  benev- 
olent looking  gentleman,  who  wore  gold 
bowed  spectacles,  and  carried  an  ivory  walk- 
ing stick  in  one  hand,  and  a  Bible  in  the 
other.- 

Certainly  our  poor  street  boy  was "  in  the 
keeping  of  the  good  God,  and  on  this  day  was 
held  in  dear  remembrance,  for  as  the  gentle- 
man's eyes  fell  upon  him,  he  stopped  and  said, 
so  cheerfully,  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  listen, 

"  AVell,  my  boy,  this  is  a  fine  morning.  Are 
you  on  your  way  to  the  Sunday  School  ?  " 

"Xo,"  said  Andrew.  "  I  don't  go  to  Sun- 
day School." 

"  Come  along  with  me,*  then,"  and  the 
gentleman  took  him  by  the  arm,  and  turned 
him  about.  "1  want  you  to  see  my  Sunday 
School,  and  if  you  don't  like  it,  why  you  need 


THE   MISSION   SCHOLAR   IN   THE   AP3IY.       61 


not  come  again.  It  is  close  by  here,  not  in  a 
church,  but  over  a  grocery  store,  and  you 
need  not  think  of  your  clothes,  for  the  boys 
and  girls  you  Avill  meet  there,  are  some  of 
them  quite  as  ragged  as  you.  Do  you  know 
how  to  sing  ?  " 

"No." 

"You  can  whistle,  can't  you?" 

"Yes,"  and  Andrew  looked  up  to  see  if  the 
gentleman  was  laughing  at  him.  But  no ; 
his  fac^e  was  bright  and  pleasant,  but  quite 
serious. 

"  If  you  can  whistle  you  will  readily  learn 
to  sing,  and  our  songs  are  simple  and  easy  to 
learn." 

"I  don't  want  to  go,"  ventured  Andrew, 
suifering  himself,  notwithstanding,  to  be  led 
along. 

"But  here  we  are,  my  young  friend,"  said 
the  gentleman,  stopping  before  an  open  door, 
about  which  stood  a  number  of  boys  of  all 
ages,  who  pressed  forward  to  receive  a  smile 
of  recognition  or  a  pleasant   w^ord.     He   led 


62  ANDY    HALL, 


them  up  the  narrow,  dark  stairway,  keeping 
fast  hold  of  Andrew's  arm,  and  opened  the 
door  of  the  school-room. 

It  was  a  long,  narrow  hall,  poorly  lighted 
by  four  windows ;  the  seats  were  partly 
benches,  partly  chairs,  with  here  and  there  a 
three-legged  stool ;  the  walls  were  dark  with 
smoke ;  there  was  nothing  particularly  attrac- 
tive in  the  appearance  of  the  room,  but  there 
was  a  good  tire  in  the  stove,  around  which 
huddled  a  group  of  children,  finding  such  com- 
fort in  the  warmth  as  they  were  denied  at 
home.  Their  sallow,  peaked  foces,  brightened 
as  they  caught  sight  of  thch'  superintendent, 
and  the  whisper  passed  from  one  to  another, 

"  Here  comes  ]\Ir.  Wallace  !  " 

He  led  Andrew  the  length  of  the  hall,  and 
seated  him  on  a  bench  quite  near  his  desk ; 
then  he  rung  a  little  bell,  and  the  disorderly 
children,  after  some  minutes  spent  in  pushing 
and  knocking  each  other  about,  took  their 
places.  While  this  was  going  on,  the  teach- 
ers of  the  school  came   in,  and  Mr.  Wallace 


THE   MISSION    SCHOLAR    IN    THE    ARMY.      63 


waited  patientl}^  until  all  were  seated,  and 
quiet.  Then  tliey  sung  a  hymn.  All  voices 
joined  in  it,  and  as  some  were  but  just  learn- 
ing to  sing,  and  others  sung  only  for  the  sake 
of  making  a  noise,  the  music  was  not  very 
fine ;  still,  I  doubt  not,  it  w^as  listened  to  by 
the  angels  with  quite  as  much  interest  and 
pleasure,  as  the  elaborate  chants  and  anthems, 
that  Avere  being  executed  at  the  same  moment, 
by  paid  choirs,  in  the  elegant  churches  near  by. 
Andrew  sat  very  still  during  the  singing  of 
the  hymn,  for  the  words  and  tune  were  the 
same  that  jMiss  Hilary  had  sung  to  him  that 
morning, 

"  I  have  a  Father  in  the  promised  land." 

When  it  was  finished,  Mr.  Wallace  said : 

"  We  all  have  a  Father  in  the  promised 
land  ;  by  what  other  name  do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"He  is  God,"  was  the  answer. 

"  What  has  God  given  to  us  ?  " 

The  replies  to  this  question  were  various. 
Some  said,  "  The  Sunday  School,"  others, 
*'  bread  to  eat ;  "   others  still,  "  a  good  fire  to 


64  AXDY   HALL, 

warm  us  by ,  when  we  come  to  school ;  "  one 
pale,  thin  child,  answered  softljs  '*  The  Bible, 
and  Jesus." 

Mr.  Wallace  continued : 

"Does  God  our  Father  give  us  all  good 
things  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir.  " 

"  Does  he  love  to  have  us  ask  him  for  what 
we  need  and  what  we  want  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Shall  we  ask  him  to  take  care  of  us  to- 
day?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  God  is  so  good,"  said  Mr.  Wallace,  very 
seriously,  "  that  he  cannot  bear  to  have  us 
speak  to  him  in  prayer,  unless  we  are  in 
earnest,  and  mean  what  we  say.  If  we  laugh, 
and  whisper,  and  play,  he  is  displeased  with 
us.  He  will  not  Usten  to  us.  We  cannot  see 
God,  but  he  sees  us  every  moment,  and  knows 
whether  we  reall}^  wish  him  to  take  care  of 
us." 

By  this  time,  there  was  almost  perfect  si- 


THE   INHSSION    SCHOLAR   IN   THE    ARMY.      65 


lence  in  the  hall ;  the  most  unruly  of  the  chil- 
dren were  quiet ;  and  Mr.  Wallace,  closing  his 
eyes,  committed  all  present  to  the  care  and 
love  of  the  Father  in  heaven.  The  prayer 
was  fervent,  simple,  and  very  brief,  for  Mr. 
Wallace  understood  the  restless  temper  of 
those  for  whom  it  w^as  offered,  and  was  too 
wise,  to  weary  them  by  long  petitions,  which 
they  could  not  understand.  After  prayer  a 
second  hymn  was  sung,  followed  by  the  com- 
mandments, which  were  repeated  in  concert; 
and  then  came  a  recitation  of  lessons,  by  the 
classes,  to  their  respective  teachers. 

lsh\  Wallace  now  being  at  leism-e,  came  and 
sat  down  beside  Andrew,  who  had  been  watch- 
ing, from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows,  every 
movement  made  by  the  boys  in  the  seat  near- 
est to  him,  and  pleasantly  asked  : 

"Well,  my  lad,  how  do  you  like  the  school 
thus  far?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Andrew. 

Mr.  Wallace  went  on  : 

"Do  }'ou  see  the  lady  who  sits  on  the  bench 


6Q  AXDY    HALL, 


the  other  side  of  the  desk,  talking  with  five 
boys  about  your  size?  She  has  on  a  black 
bonnet  and  dress  ?  " 

Andrew  nodded  his  head. 

"  Those  boys  have  never  been  in  a  Sunday 
School  until  this  morning.  The  lady,  ^Irs. 
Laurie,  invited  them  in  Jlisl  iis  I  did  you,  and 
as  she  had  some  things  to  tell  them,  she  took 
them  up  into  that  corner  by  themselves.  They 
seem  to  be  quite  interested  in  her  story,  what- 
ever it  is." 

Andrew  turned  his  head  slightly,  and  Mr. 
AYallace  observed  that  his  countenance  ex- 
pressed some  curiosity  ;  so  he  continued  : 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  sit  with  those 
bo^^s  and  listen,  rather  than  stay  here  by  3^our- 
self  ?  I  will  go  with  you,  if  you  don't  wish 
to  go  alone."  He  rose  as  he  spoke,  and  An- 
drew rose  too,  it  seemed  almost  in v^oluntarily. 
Mrs.  Laurie  looked  up  and  smiled  as  they  ap- 
proached her  seat. 

"Here  is  a  boy,  who,  I  think,  would  like  to 
listen  to  what  you  are  saying,"  said  Mr.  Wal- 
lace.    "  His  name  is  Andrew  Hall." 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAR    IX    THE    AP3IY.      G7 


"I  nm  glad  to  see  you,"  and  Mrs.  Laurie 
held  out  her  hand.  Andrew  drew  back  his 
own ;  it  was  too  hard  and  dirtj  to  touch  any- 
thing so  fair  and  v^hite  ;  he  did  not  even  look 
into  the  lady's  face,  but  dropped  his  head, 
until  his  thick,  uncombed  hair  fell  over  his 
eyes  and  screened  them  from  sight.  Mrs. 
Laurie,  seeing  his  embarrassment,  turned 
avraj  from  him  and  went  on  with  the  story. 

She  was  talldng  about  the  country  which 
none  of  the  boys  had  ever  seen,  and  describing 
the  fields  and  meadows,  the  hills  and  groves, 
the  beautiful  flowers  that  bloom  by  the  road- 
side, and  the  green  grass  that  is  like  a  soft 
carpet  to  the  feet.  Her  account  of  country 
sights  and  sounds  was  very  interesting,  so 
much  so,  indeed,  that  even  Andrew  forgot  his 
awkward  shyness,  and  listened  with  great 
interest. 

Yv^hen  Mrs.  Laurie  saw,  that  every  eye  was 
fixed  upon  her,  and  that  the  boys  were  eagerly 
waiting  to  hear  what  was  coming  next,  she 
said,  in  the  same  pleasant  and  cheerful  tone, 


G8  AXDY  t:.\ll, 


"Some  one  made  all  these  things  that  I 
have  heeu  telling  you  about.  Some  one  made 
the  sun  to  shine  upon  the  earth,  and  the  rain 
to  fall  upon  it,  so  that  the  grass  seeds  and  the 
flower  seeds  would  spring  open,  and  send  up 
little  shoots  to  make  it  beautiful.  I  wonder 
if  any  of  you  eau  tell  me  who  it  was '  that 
made  all  the  lovely  things  that  I  have  de- 
scribed to  you  ?  " 

Xo  one  spoke. 

"I  will  tell  you,  then  ;  and  I  would  like  it  if 
you  will  all  try  and  remember.  It  was  God. 
He  made  the  earth,  the  sea,  and  the  sky,  and 
the  stars  that  shine  above  our  head  in  the 
night.  He  made  all  birds  and  beasts,  and 
lishes,  and  insects.  He  created  man,  and 
gives  to  us  life  and  breath  ;  if  he  were  to  for- 
get us  for  even  one  moment,  we  w-ould  die. 
He  gives  us  everj^thing  that  is  good,  and  if  we 
love  him,  vre  shall  alw^ays  be  happy.  Xow 
wdll  you  tell  me,  boys,  who  it  is  that  does  so 
much  for  us  ?  " 

The  boys  looked  at  one  another  and  were 


THE   IVnSSIOX   SCHOLAR    IX   THE    AP3IY.      69 


silent,  but  when  the  question  was  repeated, 
the  youngest  and  smallest  of  them  answered, 

"  God." 

"  Yerj  well,"  said  Mrs.  Laurie,  and  at  that 
moment  Mr.  Wallace  called  the  school  to 
order. 

A  hymn  was  sung;  then  all  closed  their 
eyes,  and,  as  many  as  knew  it,  repeated  in 
concert  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The  school  was 
dismissed  by  classes,  and  the  boys  made  a 
great  deal  of  noise  rushing  down  over  the 
stairs;  the  girls,  most  of  them  small  and 
sickly,  lingered  by  the  lire,  before  returning 
to  their  cheerless  homes.  Mrs.  Laurie  kept 
her  class  to  ask  them  if  they  would  all  try  to 
be  present  on  the  next  Sabbath. 

"I  would  like  to  have  you  come  too,  An- 
drew," she  said,  kindly.     "  Will  you  ?  " 

"I  don't  know."  This  was  all  the  answer 
he  would  make,  and  he  hung  his  head,  and 
twirled  his  cap,  and  shuiSed  restlessly  vdth 
his  feet,  until  Mrs.  Laurie,  in  despair,  dis- 
missed him. 


CHAPTER  Yll, 

^p^^)  HE  little  girl  who  Tvas  "sick  and  lame, 
( filp  whose  clothes  were  all  ragged  and 
\^^  dirty,"  according  to  the  description 
^"■^dp  given  by  Andrew,  haunted  the  brain 
of  Lily  Kent,  for  several  da^'s,  and 
her  little  heart  was  lilled  with  s^^mpa.- 
thy,  and  an  ardent  desire  to  see  and  aid  one 
so  unfortunate. 

"  Only  just  think,  dear  mamma,"  she  sud- 
denly exclaioied  one  morning,  as  her  mother 
was  kindly  ghowing  her  how  to  hem  her  doll's 
frock,  "  only  just  think  !  that  little  Koxy  Hall 
can't  walk  like  me,  but  has  to  creep  upon  her 
hands  and  knees ;  and  then  she  has  no  good* 
clothes  to  wear." 

As  Lily  had  made  the  same  remark  about 
twenty   times    during  the  last  two    or  three 


THE   MISSION   SCHOLAR   IX   THE   AKMY.      71 


days,  Mrs.  Kent  was  not  particularly  startled 
by  it,  but  she  kindly  said, 

"  It  is  very  sad  for  Roxy." 

Lily  A^as  silent  for  a  few  moments,  then 
looking  thoughtfully  up  into  her  mother's  face, 
she  said  softly, 

^'  I  think  I  ought  to  ])e  very  thankful  to  my 
heavenly  Father,  for  giving  me  nice  feet  to 
walk  with,  don't  you,  mamma?" 

'^Yes,  darHng." 

"  And  for  clothes,  that  are  so  pretty  and 
good,"  continued  Lily,  smoothing  down  the 
folds  of  her  soft  crimson  merino.  "  But  then 
I  wouldn't  have  such  clothes,  if  papa  did  not 
buy  them  for  me ;  and  God  gave  me  papa  ; 
God  gives  me  every  thing  I  have  that  is 
nice." 

Mrs.  Kent  made  no  reply  to  this,  for  she 
saw  that  Lily's  young  mind  was  working,  and 
she  preferred  to  wait  and  see  whither  it  would 
lead  her. 

"Mamma,  I  wonder  what  was  the  reason 
that  God  gave  Koxy  lame  feet,  when  I  have 


72  AXDY    HALL, 

good  stronir  ones  ?  "  The  question  came  hesi- 
tatingly, and  the  shadow  deepened  on  the  fair, 
open  brow. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  wliy^  my  child,  but  God 
is  so  great  and  good  that  he  never  does  any- 
thing without  a  reason.  He  knows  just  what 
is  best  not  only  for  you,  but  for  Ivox}^" 

"  I  think  it  is  very  hard  for  her  !  "  sighed 
Lily.  "  And  then  God  can  do  everyi;hing.  It 
wouldn't  be  hard  for  him  to  make  Roxy  well.'' 

"  Not  hard,"  replied  her  mother ;  "  and  he 
will  undoubtedly  do  so,  if  he  sees  fit.  In  the 
meantime,  dear,  I  think  there  is  something 
for  you  to  do  to  make  Koxy  happy." 

"I  wish  I  could,  mamma,"  cried  Lil}^  eager- 
ly.    "  I  do  wish  I  could  !     What  may  I  do  ?  " 

"  What  would  you  like  to  do  ?  " 

"I  would  like  to  carry  her  a  new  gown. 
Will  you  buy  one  for  her,  and  take  it,  after 
papa  finds  the  house." 

"  That  would  be  m}^  gift,  not  j'ours." 

Lily  looked  up  surprised,  and  her  mother 
added, 


THE   MISSION    SCHOLAR   IX    THE    AR:HY.      73 


"  If  you  wish  to  give  Roxy  something,  and 
I  purchase  the  article,  aiicl  allow  you  to  carry 
it  to  her,  don't  you  see  that  it  is  not  your 
gift?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  But  you  and  papa,  and  Hi- 
lary and  aunt  Jenny  give  me  every  thing,  so 
I  never  can  make  Roxy  a  present."  Lily 
looked  troubled. 

"  The  books  and  toys  that  have  been  given 
you,  and  the  bright  bits  of  silver  in  your 
savings  bank,  are  all  your  o^\ai  to  dispose  of 
as  you  like,"  said  Mrs.  Kent. 

Lily  was  an  amiable,  lovely  child,  but  her 
parents  had  noticed  Avith  pain  that  seeds  of 
selfishness  were  sown  in  her  heart,  and  it  was 
their  constant  endeavor  to  uproot  them  be- 
fore they  grew  up  into  strong  and  noxious 
weeds. 

"  I  don't  like  to  give  away  my  books  and 
toys,"  said  Lily,  dolefully ;  "  and  I  am  saving 
my  money  for  Christmas,  you  know,  mamma  ; 
and  Christmas  comes  next  week." 

"  Oh,  v^^ell,"  replied  Mrs.  Kent,  you  are  not 


74  A^'DY     HALL, 


obliged  to  give  liox}^  a  present ;  ^^ou  spoke  of 
it  yourself,  my  dear." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Lily,  and  then  she  sat 
very  still  for  some  time. 

"  Mamma,"  she  said  at  length,  "  I  don't 
suppose  Roxy  has  any  toys,  do  you?" 

"  I  should  think  not ;  from  the  appearance 
of  her  brother,  and  what  he  told  us,  the  family 
must  be  yery,  very  poor ;  much  poorer  than 
you  can  imagine,  Lily." 

"  I  have  been  thinking,  mamma,"  Lily  con- 
tinued, "  that  if  she  hasn't  any  toys  at  all, 
perhaps  I  would  give  her  my  old  Xoah's  Ark. 
I  haven't  touched  it  for  ever  so  long,  for  the 
animals  arc  almost  all  lost,  and  those  that  are 
left  arc  broken.  I  guess  she  would  like  it, 
though  ;  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Would  you  like  to  have  it  given  you  in 
such  a  condition,  my  dear?" 

Lily  blushed,  and  hung  her  head. 

"  Perhaps  Roxy  would  be  pleased,"  her 
mother  continued,  "  to  have  even  such  a  poor 
gift  as  that,  but  there  vrould  be  nothing  gen- 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAR   IN   THE    ARMY.      70 


erous  in  your  giving  it  to  her.  It  is  an  old, 
cast-oiFtoy,  that  affords  you  no  amusement; 
you  would  not  miss  it  in  the  least." 

"AYhat  shall  I  give  her,  then?  I'm  sure  I 
don't  think  of  anythinor  else,  mamma." 

"  You  must  decide  for  yourself,  my  child. 
I  cannot  help  you,  but  if  you  wish  to  be 
generous  in  giving,  your  gift  must  be  some- 
thing that  you  really  value ^  and  that  you  will 
miss  when  it  is  gone.  There  is  no  generosity 
in  giving  away  what  you  do  not  care  for,  nor 
want  yourself." 

Lily  would  have  been  glad  to  have  had  her 
mother  talk  with  her  longer  on  this  subject, 
but  Mrs.  Kent  preferred  to  leave  her  to  reflect 
upon  what  had  already  been  said  ;  accordingly 
she  laid  the  doll's  frock  on  the  little  girl's  lap, 
and  left  the  room.  Lily  did  not  touch  it ;  she 
sat  thinking,  with  her  eyes  bent  upon  the 
floor. 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  T\liat  to  do,"  said 
she  J  to  herself.  "I  wish  mamma  would  give 
Eoxy   something   pretty.      I  haven't  a  great 


76  ANDY   HALL, 


many  toys ;  and  I  don't  want  to  give  them 
away.  There's  my  dissected  picture ;  she 
wouldn't  like  that,  I'm  sure,  and  besides, 
uncle  Frank  sent  it  to  me  from  Xew-York ; 
there's  my  doll's  house ;  that  was  my  Birth- 
day present  from  aunt  Jenny,  and  I  can't 
spare  it  at  any  rate ;  but  there's  my  box  of 
blocks ;  I  might  give  her  those ;  or,  no ;  I 
can't  either,  because  I've  nothing  else  that 
cousin  Charley  likes  to  play  with,  when  he 
comes  to  see  me.  My  white  tea-set?  Xo ; 
that  I  can't  spare,  for  what  would  I  do  when 
I  want  to  play  tea  with  j^ou,  Nelly  ?  "  Here 
Lily  took  her  beautiful  large  China  doll  in  her 
arms,  and  looked  in  its  pretty  face  with  gi-eat 
affection.  "  What  a  beauty  you  are  Xelly  ! " 
she  went  on ;  "I  can  tell  3'ou  so  just  as  much 
as  I  like,  and  it  wont  make  3^ou  vain.  Your 
eyes  are  as  blue  as  the  sky,  and  your  cheeks 
are  as  red  as  roses  !  I  wonder  if  Eoxy  ever 
had  a  doll?"  ^  Lily  said  this,  she  hugged 
Nelly  close  to  her  bosom,  and  a  shadow  cross- 
ed her  brow.     "  I  never  can  give  you  away ; 


THE    MISSION    SCIIOLAP.    IX   THE    AR]MY.      77 


never,  to  anyl^ody.  Papa  gave  you  to  me 
last  Christmas,  and  I  have  loved  you  dearly 
ever  since.  It  wouldn't  be  right  for  me  to 
part  with  Xelly."  She  laid  the  doll  upon  the 
carpet,  and  tinned  away  from  it.  "  I  wish 
mamma  hadn't  said  if  I  wished  to  be  gener- 
ous, my  gift  must  be  something  that  I  really 
value,  and  that  I  will  miss  when  it  is  gone  ; 
there's  nothing  in  the  world  I  would  miss  so 
much  as  Xelly ;  and  I  haven't  anything  that 
Eoxy  would  like  so  well  to  have.  Oh,  dear, 
dear,  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do." 
•  Lily  was  on  the  point  of  weeping,  but  at 
this  moment  her  mother  called  her,  ^nd  she 
ran  at  once  to  see  what  was  wanted. 

Mrs.  Kent  was  in  the  dressing-room,  and 
preparing  for  a  walk. 

"  Your  papa  has  just  sent  me  a  note,"  she 
said,  "  giving  me  the  number  of  the  house 
where  Roxy  lives.  He  has  called  there  this 
morning,  and  now  I  am  going  to  see  what  can 
be  done  to  help  her  and  Andi»ew.  You  may 
go  with  me,  if  you  like." 


78  ANDY    HALL, 


There  was  nothing  that  Lily  enjoyed  more 
than  a  walk  with  her  parents  or  sister  Hilary, 
and  she  skipped  away  for  her  cloak  and  hat, 
for  a  moment  forgetting  the  conflict  through 
vyhich  she  was  passing.  It  occurred  to  her 
again,  just  as  she  was  ready  to  join  her 
mother,  but  she  tried  to  dismiss  it  by  sa3^ing, 
"  I  wont  caiTy  anything  to-day,  I  can  tell  bet- 
ter what  she  will  like  after  I  have  seen  her." 

"  But,"  whispered  something  in  her  heart, 
"you  know  that  she  would  like  Nelly." 

"  Yes,  continued  Lily,  "  but  it  is  just  as 
well  to  wait  a  day  or  two.  I  want  time  enough 
to  maka  up  my  mind. 

"  The  poor  little  girl  is  sick  and  lame  !  how 
it  would  please  her  to  hold  Xelly  in  her  arms, 
and  know  that  she  was  all  her  own ;  and  you 
have  everything  pretty  and  nice  around  you, 
Lily,  besides  being  well  and  strong,  and  able 
to  walk  wherever  you  please." 

It  was  a  faithful  monitor  that  whispered 
these  things,  bnt  Lily  would  not  listen.  She 
found  her  mother  waiting  in  the  hall,  with  a 


THE   MISSION    SCIIOLAn    IX    THE    AEMY. 


little  basket  in  her  hand,  and  in  a  moment 
more,  they  were  walking  rapidly  down  the 
street  in  the  direction  of  x\Iercer-lane. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Lily,  "  Andrew  Hall  said 
that  it  would  make  me  almost  sick  to  see 
Roxy,  because  she  was  so  lame,  and  her 
clothes  were  so  ragged  and  dirty^  Do  you 
think  it  will?" 

"Xo,"  replied  Mrs.  Kent.  "Itwillveiy 
likely  pain  you  to  see  a  little  girl  of  your  own 
age  who  suifers  so  much  ;  but  you  must  make 
up  your  mind  that  it  will  be  unpleasant,  be- 
fore hand." 

"  Have  3'ou  got  something  for  Roxy,  in  that 
basket,  mamma?" 

"Yes,  some  jelly  and  fruit,  and  a  custard." 

"  I  thought  I  wouldn't  bring  anything  to- 
day, mamma,"  ventured  Lily,  "because  I 
knew  we  would  come  again,  and  perhaps  I 
should  think  of  something  she  would  like,  af- 
ter I  had  seen  her  to-day." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  we  shall  come 
again,  Lily?" 


80  ANDY    HALL, 


Mrs.  Kent  spoke  very  se^iousl3^ 

"  AYhy,  because  —  wliy,  you  alwa^-s  go  to 
see  poor  people  more  than  once,  mamma." 

"  Yes,  and  I  hope  to  visit  Httle  Roxy  many 
times,  but  of  that  I  am  not  certain.  AA^c  are 
only  sure  of  the  present  opportunity,  my 
child  ;  and  when  it  is  past,  it  may  hQ  forever.'" 

"  Oh,  dear,  I  hope  not !  "  sighed  Lily.  "  I 
never  thought  of  that.  I  almost  wish  I  had 
brought  something  to  Roxy,  to-day." 

"  It  is  too  late  for  that  now  ;  for  here  we  are 
in  Mercer-lane,  and  Roxy's  house  is  close  by." 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

)0R  a  moment,  as  the  door  opened  in 
answer  to  her  mother's  rap,  Lily 
turned  pale,  and  shrunk  back,  half 
afraid  to  enter  the  dark,  dreary  gar- 
ret. There  was  no  fire  on  the  hearth. 
Mrs.  Hall  stood  with  her  hand  on  the  door-' 
latch,  without  speaking,  and  on  the  floor,  close 
to  the  chimney,  sat  a  child  who  could  be  none 
other  than  Eoxy.  Her  little  hands  lay  clasped 
together  over  her  knees,  and  her  eyes  now 
eagerly  searched  the  faces  of  the  strangers,  as 
they  approached  her. 

"  This  must  be  Andrew's  sister,  Eoxy,"  said 
Mrs.  Kent,  stooping  and  pushing  back  the 
light  locks  from  the  child's  forehead. 

At  Andrew's  name,  Eoxy'sface  brightened. 
"  Do  you   know   him  ! "    she    ventured  to 
ask. 


025  ANDY   HALL, 

"Yes,  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Kent,  "and  lie 
told  my  little  girl,  Lily,  about  you,  and  she 
wanted  to  come  and  see  you.  Where  is 
Andrew?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Hall, 
to  whom  the  question  was  addressed.  "  He's 
in  the  street  most  of  the  time,  and  never  comes 
home  if  he  can  help  it." 

"  I  hoped  to  see  him  this  morning,"  said 
Mrs.  Kent,  apparently  taking  no  notice  of  the 
complaint  implied  in  Mrs.  Hall's  answer.  "  I 
became  quite  interested  in  him  last  Sabbath 
morning,  and  want  to  see  him  again.  Will 
you  tell  him  when  he  comes  in  that  I  would 
like  to  have  him  come  to  my  house  next  Sun- 
day morning,  and  I  will  see  that  he  has  a  nice 
breakfast,  and  Miss  Hilary  will  play  and  sing 
for  him?" 

"Yes,  I'll  tell  him,  but  he  won't  go,"  said 
Mrs.  Hall.  "  Besides  he  isn't  fit  to  be  seen 
where  there's  decent  people,  and  I  can't  get 
him  any  better  clothes  to  wear.  It's  just  as 
much^as  I  can  do  to  get  a  bit  to  keep  Roxy 
and  m3^self  from  starving." 


THE   MISSION    SCHOLAR   IN   THE   AR5IY.     83 


'^That  reminds  me  that  I  have  brought 
something  for  Eoxy  that  I  think  she  will  like 
— some  jelly  and  grapes,  and  a  custard." 

Eoxy's  eyes  brightened  at  the  sight  of  such 
luxuries,  and  she  held  a  bunch  of  rich  purple 
grapes  in  her  hands  and  surveyed  them  with 
great  admiration. 

"  I  never  saw  anything  so  pretty  in  my 
life,"  she  said  to  Lily,  as  Mrs.  Kent  turned  to 
continue  the  conversation  with  her  mother. 
"  I  mean  to  keep  them  to  look  at." 

"O,  no,  I  wouldn't,"  said  Lily,  "they  are 
so  nice  to  eat,  and  if  you  keep  them  long  they 
will  dry  and  wither,  and  not  look  so  nice  at 
all.  I  would  eat  them  right  up,  if  I  were 
you." 

'' Yf  hat  pretty  things  you  wear,"  said  Roxy, 
letting  her  eyes  rest  for  a  moment  upon  Lily's 
blue  cloak  and  hat,  and  the  delicate  fm's  that 
encircled  her  neck  and  wrists. 

"I  think  they  are  pretty,"  replied  Lily. 
"My  papa  gave  them  to  me." 

''He  must  be  good  and  kind,"  sighed  Roxy. 


84  ANDY    HALL, 


"He  is — ^just  as  good  as  he  can  be,  and  I 
love  him  dearly.  Where  is  your  papa, 
Iloxy?" 

Eoxy  shuddered. 

"  I  don't  know.  He  isn't  good,  and  he 
don't  love  me  at  all." 

"  I  should  think  he  would,"  said  Lily.  "  I 
should  think  he  would  hold  you  in  his  arms 
and  rock  you.  Don't  your  back  ache  sitting 
there  on  the  floor  ?  " 

"Yes,  some;  but  I've  got  a  nice  pillow  to 
my  bed  now,  and  it  rests  me  ever  so  much. 
Mrs.  Proctor  was  the  woman  that  gave  it  to 
me.  She  is  real  good,  and  she  sent  me  some 
broth  yesterday  for  my  dinner." 

"  Have  you  got  any  playthings  ?  "  Lily  ask- 
ed, almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  Any  what?  "  returned  Roxy,  surprised. 

"Playthings;  things  to  play  with,  and 
amuse  yourself  with." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Poxy,  and  without  another 
word  she  crept  away  on  her  hands  and  feet  to 
her  bed  in  the  corner,  and  soon  returned  to 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAK    IX   THE    ARMY.      85 


Lily,  who  bad  watched  her  with  painful  in- 
terest. 

"  I  have  got  this,"  she  said,  holding  up  in 
her  bony  fingers  a  bit  of  glass  that  once  had 
helped  to  ornament  a  chandelier.  "  You  may 
take  it,  and  hold  it  up  to  the  light,  and  you'll 
see  lots  of  colors  in  it.  Ain't  it  real  pretty," 
she  added,  when  Lily  handed  it  back  to  her. 
"Andrew  brought  it  home,  and  when  he  got 
tired  of  it  he  gave  it  to  me  ;  so  I  keep  it  under 
my  bed,  where  my  father  can't  get  it,  for  it  is 
so  pretty  he'd  want  to  sell  it  if  he  knew  I 
had  it." 

"  Have  you  got  a  doll,"  asked  Lily,  her 
voice  trembling  a  little. 

"Xo;   what  is  a  doll?" 

Lily  looked  at  her  in  utter  astonishment ; 
it  seemed  the  strangest  thing  in  the  world  to 
see  a  girl  eight  years  old  who  did  not  know 
what  a  doll  was ;  when  that  feeling  had  sub- 
sided, she  replied,  "  AYhy,  a  doll  is  like  a 
baby,  only  ,not  quite  as  large  ;  and  it  has  a 
face,  and  hands  and  feet,  and  you  can  undress 


86  ANDY   n.MX, 


and  dress  it,  and  play  with  it  any  way  3'ou 
Hive." 

"Is  it  alive?"  asked  Roxy,  meekly. 

"Xo,  indeed;  its  body  is  made  of  kid,  and 
its  head,  and  arms,  and  legs  are  china;  and  it 
has  a  blue  silk  frock,  and  a  velvet  hat  with  a 
white  feather,  and  a  blue  velvet  cloak  trim- 
med with  fur ;  besides  that,  it  has  a  ball  dress 
of  white  muslin,  with  a  lace  berthe,  and 
flounces ;  and  a  white  night-gown  and  cap, 
trimmed  with  tatten."  Thus  Lily  almost  un- 
consciously described  her  own  Kelly  and  her 
wardrobe  to  the  little  cripple,  who  listened 
wdth  eager  eyes  and  half  open  mouth  to  the 
wonderful  story. 

**  O,  I  Avish  I  could  see  her  just  a  minute  !  " 
she  exclaimed  in  the  first  pause,  when  Lily 
stopped  to  take  breath.  "I  should  like  to 
take  her  in  my  arms  a  minute.  I  wish  I  had 
a  doll  of  my  own." 

^  I  wish  you  had,"  said  Lily.  "  Perhaps 
next  time  I  come  to  see  you  I  will  bring  my 
Nelly  with  me,  and  if  I  do,  you  may  hold  her 


ij*«' 


THE   MISSIOX    SCHOLAR    IX    THE    ARAlt.      87 


as  long  as  I  stay."  Lily  had  more  than  half 
a  mind  to  say,  "I  will  give  her  to  you  for 
your  own,  to  keep  always,"  but  the  words 
died  upon  her  tongue.  Roxy,  however,  was 
delighted  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  the  won- 
derful creature,  and  asked  numberless  ques- 
tions in  regard  to  her,  that  Lily  took  much 
pleasure  in  answering,  because,  when  talking, 
she  could  not  hear  the  troublesome  little  voice 
that  still  persisted  in  whispering  to  her  heart. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Kent  drew  from  Mrs.  Hall 
something  of  her  past  history  and  present 
wants ;  a  dreary  catalogue  these  latter,  and 
apparently  not  to  be  supplied,  for  the  misera- 
ble husband  never  failed  to  dispose  of  every- 
thing the  house  afforded,  to  gratify  his  passion 
for  strong  drink. 

"  So  we  must  do  the  best  we  can,"  sighed 
Mrs.  Hall.  ''  T  wont  be  any  better  so  long  as 
Bill  lives,  and  it  is  no  use  to  try  to  do  any- 
thing for  us,  as  I  told  IMrs.  Proctor  the  other 
day.  I  w^ish  it  was  more  comfortable  for  that 
poor  young  one  ;  its  harder  for  her  than  it  is 
for  me,  for  she's  always  ailing.^ 


88     •  ANDY    HALL, 


"Can  nothing  be  done  to  help  her?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Kent. 

"  Xo.  I  got  the  doctor  to  look  at  her  once, 
three  or  four  3^ears  ago,  and  he  said  she 
never  would  be  well,  whatever  was  done  for 
her.     He  told  me  she  must  have  nourishinor 

o 

food  and  good  air,  but  it  is  precious  little  she 
gets  of  either." 

"Poor  child!"  said  Mrs.  Kent.  "Is  sh» 
quiet  and  patient?" 

"  Quiet  enough,"  replied  the  mother.  "  She 
daresn't  scarce^  breathe  when  Bill  is  at  home, 
and  I  a'n't  over-fond  of  hearing  whining  ni}-- 
self ;  besides,  it  wouldn't  help  her  to  cry  and 
make  a  fuss ;  she's  just  as  well  off  to  keep 
still." 

"  Poor  child  !  "  again  sighed  Mrs.  Kent ;  and 
this  time  she  stooped  and  tenderly  kissed  the 
wan  cheek,  while  tears  filled  her  eyes. 

"Do  3'ou  love  Jesus,  Roxy?"  she  asked, 
still  bending  over  her. 

"I  don't  know  who  Jesus  is,"  replied  Poxy. 

"He  is  the  Friend  and  Saviour  of  little 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAll    IX   THE    AE^IY,      89 


children.  He  took  them  in  his  arms  and 
blessed  them  when  he  lived  upon  the  earth." 

"  Where  is  he  now?"  asked  Roxy. 

"  He  is  in  heaven." 

"  Where  is  heaven  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  and  happy  home  where  all 
who  love  Jesus  will  go  when  they  die,  and  live 
with  him  forever." 

"Is  it  anything  like  this?"  whispered 
Eoxy,  looking  around  on  the  bare  walls  and 
smoky  ceiling  of  her  cheerless  home. 

"  Xo,  dear  child.  Everything  there  is 
bright  and  beautiful.  It  is  never  cold  or 
stormy  in  that  blessed  place,  and  the  inhabi- 
tants never  say  I  am  ,sick ;  and  God  wipes 
awaj^  the  tears  from  all  faces." 

Eoxy  raised  her  thin  hands,  and  drew  Mrs. 
Kent's  face  closer  down  to  hers,  and  whis- 
pered hesitatingly,  "  Can  you  get  a  place  for 
me  in  heaven  ?     I  want  to  go  there  ?  " 

"Jesus  will  prepare  a  place  for  3'ou  there, 
little  one,  if  you  will  ask  him.  You  cannot 
see  him,  but  he  can  see  you  all  the  time,  and 
he  can  hear  all  that  you  say.     Do  not  be 


90  ANDY   HALL, 


afraid  to  ask  liim,  for  he  loves  you  and  will 
take  care  of  you." 

"Does  he  see  me  all  the  time,  in  the  dark, 
dark  nights,  when  mother  is  asleep?  " 

"Yes,  dear.  It  is  he  who  takes  care  of 
you,  and  watches  over  you.  He  never  sleeps." 

"  Andrew  told  me  it  was  a  star  that  I  see 
shining  up  in  the  sky  every  night,  but  it  is 
Jesus  looking  down  at  me,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Xo ;  but  he  made  the  bright  stars,  and  he 
keeps  them  in  their  places.  I  must  go  now, 
Eoxy,  but  I  hope  I  may  come  again  and  tell 
you  more  about  the  Saviour.  It  will  make 
you  very  happy  to  love  him  and  trust  him. 
Do  you  love  me,  Roxy  ?  " 

"O,  yes,"  and  the  child's  soft  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  "  I  wish  I  could  see  3'ou  all  the 
time." 

"That  is  not  possible,  but  Jesus  has  al- 
ways loved  you  ever  since  you  were  a  little 
baby,  and  he  has  alwaj's  taken  care  of  you. 
He  will  never,  never  leave  3^ou  nor  forsake 
you,  if  you  will  ask  him  to  bless  you.  And 
now,  my  little  girl,  good-bye." 


THE   MISSION    SCHOLAR    FN^    THE    AEMY. 


91 


Eoxy  crept  away  to  her  bed,  when  Mrs. 
Kent  and  Lily  were  gone,  and  laid  her  head 
upon  the  pillow.  Many  were  the  thonghts 
that  thronged  her  brain,  bnt  among 'them  all 
there  was  one  sweeter  than  all  the  rest ;  it 
was  the  thought  of  that  happy  home  where 
Jesus  dwelt,  and  where  she  longed  to  go, 
away  from  all  hunger,  and  cold,  and  sickness, 
and  fear. 

Her  mother,  sitting  by  the  hearth,  heard  the 
faint  little  voice  murmur — 

"Jesus,  I  can't  see  you,  but  you  can  see  me. 
Will  you  make  a  place  for  me  in  heaven,  fori 
want  to  go  and  live  there,  for  I  am  sick,  and 
so  tired,  so  tired/" 

It  was  little  Roxy's  first  prayer,  and  it  was 
not  worded  like  the  prayers  that  tender  moth- 
er's teach  the  happy  children  at  their  knees, 
but  who  shall  say  that  it  had  not  as  sweet  a 
sound  as  theirs  in  the  ear  of  the  great  Shep- 
herd ;  nay,  sweeter,  for  it  was  the  breathing 
of  a  soul  first  awakened  to  a  sense  of  its  wants 
and  its  dependence. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

,^^  XDREW  HALL  spent  the  week  after  his 

fn\      .  .  .    . 

\^)^  introduction  to  the  mission  school,  very 

f:!}^!^  much  as  he  had  always  done,  wan- 
VM^^  tiering  about  the  streets  and  wharves, 
^^5^  lingering  at  the  doors  of  low  drinking 
saloons,  begging  food  and  pence  at  the  houses 
of  the  rich  ;  swearing,  disputing,  and  fighting 
with  his  idle  -and  vicious  companions ;  and 
thus  daily  hardening  himself  in  sin.  Some- 
times during  the  week,  a  thought  of  Miss  Hi- 
lary's fair  face  and  sweet  songs,  of  little  Lily's 
affectionate  words  and  s^^mpathy  for  his  lame 
sister,  of  Mr.  Wallace's  kindness,  and  Mrs. 
Laurie's  pleasant  stories,  Hashing  through  his 
mind  like  the  recollection  of  pleasant  dreams, 
awakened  a  faint  desire  for  something  better 
and  higher  than  this  lovr,   idle   life.      Why 

92 


THE    3kUSSI0N    SCHOLAR    IN    THE    ARMY.      93 


might  not  he  go  to  work ;  he  was  old  enough 
and  strong  for  his  years  ;  why  might  not  he 
earn  money  and  dress  in  clean,  whole  clothes, 
instead  of  filthy  rags?  But  these  thoughts 
and  desires  were  fleeting ;  the  fii-st  word  from 
an  old  companion,  the  fii*st  chance  for  a  frolic, 
drove  them  away. 

Sunday  morning  Eoxy  awoke  quite  early, 
and  lay  very  still,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  bit  of  blue  sky  above  her  head.  She  was 
thinking  of  Jesus  and  heaven,  for  since  Mrs. 
Kent's  visit,  these  themes  had  constantly  oc- 
cupied her  mind;  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  an- 
swer to  her  simple,  but  earnest  and  often  re- 
peated prayer,  was  enlightening  her  ignorance, 
and  revealing  to  her  thinsrs  which  are  '*  hidden 
fj'om  the  wise  and  prudent."  As  she  lay  thus, 
sufiering  in  body,  but  with  sweetest  peace  in 
her  heart,  Andrew  awoke,  and  springing  up 
from  the  bare  floor,  looked  around  for  his  cap. 
lioxy  had  been  waiting  for  this,  and  called  in 
a  voice  scarcely  more  than  a  whisper, 

"Andy,  look  here,  a  minute." 


94  ANDY   HALL, 


lie  heard  her,  and  came  softly  to  her  bed- 
side. "What  d'ye  want?  Speak  quick,  for 
I'm  in  a  hurry." 

"  Don't  wake  up  father,  Andy.  To-day  is 
Sunday,  a'n't  it,  Andy?" 

"  I  guess  so  ;  w^hat  of  it  ?  " 

"  You  ivuow  Mrs.  Kent  wanted  you  to  go 
to  her  house  to  day  ;  wont  you  go  ?  " 

"  No,  I  wont,  and  there's  the  end  of  it. 
AVhat's  the  use?"  he  added  more  gently,  for 
Eoxy's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  What  does  she  want  with  me  ?  " 

"  O,  she's  so  good,  Andy." 

"  Well,  she's  nothing  to  make  her  had,"  was 
Andi'ew's  reply.  "  She  has  eveiy thing  she 
wants,  and  plenty  of  money.  I  a'n't  going 
near  her,  so  you  needn't  say  anything  more 
about  it." 

"  She  said  Miss  Hilary  would  sing  to  you," 
Roxy  ventured  to  add  ;  "  and  you  liked  to  hear 
her  sing ;  you  said  you  did,  Andy." 

"I  know  that,  but  there's  a  good  many 
things  I  like  and  can't  have."    As  he  spoke, 


THE   MISSION   SCHOLAR   IN    THE   AE^HY.       95 


he  turned  to  go,  but  Eoxy  held  him  with  a 
trembling  hand  a  moment  longer. 

"  AVhat  makes  them  call  to-day,  Sunday  ?  " 
she  asked. 

^*How  should  I  know?"  replied  Andrew, 
impatiently.  "  I  don't  know  any  reason,  un- 
less it's  because  the  bells  ring  and  people  go 
to  meeting  and  Sunday  School." 

"  Do  you  go,  Andy  ?  " 

"  Xo,  nor  I  don't  want  to  ;  what's  the  use? 
Folks  that  go  to  meeting  dress  up  in  ^ne 
clothes  ;  they  don't  wear  rags  like  me." 

"  But  what's  a  Sunday  School,"  persisted 
Boxy. 

"  Why,  it's  a  place  where  boys  and  girls 
sing,  and  a  man  talks,  sometimes  with  his  eyes 
shut,  and  sometimes  with  'em  open  ;  and  they 
have  teachers,  and  the  teachers  tell  kind  of 
stories  ;  and  that's  all  I  know  about  it." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  Sunday  School,  Andy  ?" 

"  Yes,  once  ;  last  Sunday,"  replied  Andrew, 
jerking  away  his  coat  from  Roxy's  slender 
gTasp.  "  I  wish  you'd  let  me  alone;  I  can't 
spend  my  time  here,"  he  added,  gruffly. 


96  AXDY    HALL. 


"  AVhat  are  you  going  to  do  to-day,  Andy  ?  " 
*'  None  of  your  business  ; "  and  the  boy  rfung 
himself  away,  without  glancing  at  Roxy's  face. 
Ou  the  stairs,  the  thought  of  her,  lying  pale 
and  sick,  in  the  dark  corner,  flashed  across 
him,  and  he  turned  back,  and  stole  very  softly 
to  her  side.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  and  he 
heard  her  say^  scarcely  above  her  breath, 
"Dear  Jesus,  will  a'ou  take  care  of  Andy,  and 
make  a  place  in  heaven  for  him,  too?  for  I 
love  And}'." 

Softly  as  he  came,  Andrew  retreated.  Xot 
for  the  world  would  he  have  had  Koxy  know 
that  he  heard  her ;  not  for  the  world  would 
he  have  had  her  see  the  sob  that  he  choked 
back,  and  the  great  tear  that  he  brushed 
away  with  his  ragged  sleeve  ;  but  the  prayer 
followed  him  all  that  da}^,  and  made  Jiim 
more  uncomfortable  than  he  had  ever  been  in 
his  life.  He  wandered  listlessly  up  and  down 
the  streets  of  the  city  until  the  bells  began  to 
ring  ;  then  screening  himself  from  observation 
as  much  as  possible,  he  waited  nexir  the  church 


THE   MISSION    SCHOLAR   IN   THE   AEMY.      97 


which  he  had  seen  Lily  and  Miss  Hilary  enter 
on  the  preceding  Sabbath.  He  would  have 
been  at  a  loss  to  give  a  reason  for  this,  and 
would  doubtless  have  been  ashamed  had  any 
one  of  his  street  companions  discovered  him ; 
but  there  he  stood,  with  his  large  black  eyes 
eagerly  seaching  the  groups  of  people  as  they 
came  up  the  street,  until  they  fell  upon  the 
two  figui'es,  which  he  was  quick  to  recognize. 
How  fresh,  and  fair,  and  pure  they  looked; 
]\Iiss  Hilary  and  Lily  walking,  hand  in  hand, 
and  talking  so  cheerfully  together.  Andrew 
would  have  given  anything  to  have  had  a  smile 
from  either,  but  there  was  no  chance  of  his 
getting  it,  so  long  as  he  stood  concealed  from 
their  sight,  and  he  was  ashamed  to  meet  them, 
after  leaving  the  house  so  abruptly  the  pre- 
vious Sunday.  He  watched  them  until  they 
entered  the  church,  and  then  went  awa3^ 

Shoidd  he  go  down  to  the  mission  school, 
as  Mr.  AYallace  and  Mrs.  Laurie  had  urged 
him  to  ?  This  was  the  question  that  now  pre- 
sented itself  for  settlement. 


98  ANDY    HALL, 


In  the  first  place,  what  would  Sam  James 
and  Jack  Carter  sa}-,  if  they  knew  that  he 
thought  of  such  a  thing?  They  would  laugh 
at  and  ridicule  him,  and  very  likely  give  him 
some  nickname.  Perhaps  they  w^ould  exclude 
him  from  their  party  in  their  next  frolic,  and 
nothing  he  would  hear  in  Sunday  School,  not 
even  the  singing,  would  make  up  such  a  loss 
as  that !  So  he  thought  in  his  foolishness, 
poor  boy  !  But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
was  Roxy  —  Roxy  who  had  asked  Jesus  to 
make  a  place  for  him  in  heaven  ;  how  pleased 
she  would  be  to  know  that  he  really  went  to 
the  Sunday  School,  and  for  her  sake,  after  he 
had  spoken  so  crossly  to  her  about  it.  Cer- 
tainly there  was  no  harm  in  going  just  once 
more ;  he  never  need  go  again ;  besides,  the 
air  was  sharp  and  stinging,  and  the  warmth 
of  the  hall  Avould  not  be  at  all  uncomfortable 
to  his  chilled  limbs  and  aching  lingers.  As 
Andrew  walked  along,  while  thus  revolving 
the  subject,  he  now  found  himself  near  the 
door  of  the  school-room,  where  a  group  of 


THE    MISSION    SCHOLAR   IX   THE    AEMY.      99 


boys  were  assembled  as  on  the  previous  Sun- 
day, waiting  for  their  superintendent.  They 
were  a  rough  lookiug  set  of  fellows,  all  of 
them  about  Andrew's  age,  and  they  surveyed 
him  with  considerable  curiosity,  as  he  ap- 
proached. 

"Hullo!  Rag  Bag!"  shouted  one,  byway 
of  salutation,  and  the  others  joined  in  his 
rude  laugh. 

Andrew's  face  reddened  with  anger,  and 
doubling  his  fist  he  dealt  a  sudden  blow,  that 
sent  the  lad  reelino:  back  ao^ainst  the  fence. 

"  Go  it,  Rag  Bag  !  "  "  Go  it !  "  "  Hurrah  for 
a  knock  down  !  "  shouted  one  voice  after  an- 
other. "Pay  him  back,  Mike."  "Hit  him 
again."     "  Show  your  pluck,  old  boy?  " 

Mike  was  not  slow  in  recovering  himself, 
and  pushing  his  sleeves  above  his  elbows, 
with  a  terrible  oath  he  ordered  Andrew  to 
"  come  on."  Xo  further  invitation  was  re- 
quired, for  Andrew's  blood  was  boiling  with 
anger,  and  he  wanted  to  show  at  the  outset, 
that  although  he  wore  ragged  clothes,  no  one 


100  ANDY   HALL, 


should  be  suffered  to  remiud  him  of  the  fact, 
without  sufficient  punishment. 

In  the  midst  of  the  sharp  encounter  that 
followed,  Mr.  AVallace  suddenly  appeared, 
and  seizing  the  two  boys  by  their  arms,  held 
them  as  in  a  vice,  in  spite  of  their  vigorous 
attempts  to  release  themselves. 

"  What  does  this  mean,"  he  asked  sternly. 

"He  struck  me  in  my  face,  and  I  wont 
stand  it  from  anybod3\" 

"  He  called  me  names  ;  and  they  all  laugh- 
ed at  me." 

"  And  so  you  fought  over  it !  "  This  was  all 
that  Mr.  Wallace  said,  but  he  led  the  two  bo^s 
up  stairs,  whither  the  others  had  gone  at  his 
first  appearance,  and  put  them  in  their  seats. 
Andrew  would  not  look  up,  in  answer  to 
Mrs.  Laurie's  salutation.  The  blood  was  flow- 
ing from  his  nose,  and  he  was,  altogether,  a 
most  sorry  spectacle,  but  no  one  dared  to  laugh 
at  him  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Wallace.  Mrs. 
Laurie  passed  him  her  handkerchief,  but  he 
would  not  take  it ;  it  was  too  white  and  deli- 


THE  IvnSSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AE3IY.     101 

cate  for  him ;  the  rough  sleeve  of  his  jacket 
soon  stopped  the  blood,  and  as  he  listened  to 
the  hymn  that  was  sang,  his  anger  and  mor- 
tification subsided,  and  softer  feelings  took 
their  place. 

Mrs.  Laurie  asked  Andrew  to  stop  a  mo- 
ment after  school  was  dismissed,  and  when 
no  one  was  within  hearing,  she  said  to  him  as 
on  the  last  Sunday,  "You  will  come  again 
next  Sabbath,  wont  you?" 

"Xo,"  said  Andrew,  decidedly,  '' I  shan't 
come  any  more." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  reason?  Don't  you  like 
the  school?" 

"Yes;  well  enough." 

"Perhaps  you  would  prefer  another  teacher? 
If  you  would,  I  will  speak  to  Mr.  Wallace, 

and—" 

"Xo,"  interrupted  Andrew,  "I  don't  want 
any  other  teacher,    but   I  a'n't   coming  any 

more." 

"You  must  do  as  you  choose,  of  course," 
said  ])rlrs.  Laurie ;   "  but   really,  Andrew,   I 


102  AXDr   HALL, 


should  like  to  know  why  you  will  not  come. 
I  want  you  to  come  very  much  indeed." 

Andrew  stood  with  his  face  half  hidden  ])y 
his  cap,  twisting  his  fingers  uneasily  together. 

"  Perhaps  I  might  guess,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Laurie. 

"  You  needn't,"  said  Andi-ew ;  "I  wont  come 
here  to  be  called  ^  Rag  Bag,'  and  be  made  fun 
of  by  other  fellows,  and  that's  the  end  of  it." 

"  I  don't  blame  you  at  all  for  not  wishing  to 
be  called  by  such  a  name,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs. 
Laurie,  kindly.  "  Xo  one  would  like  it ;  but 
then  you  do  look  rather  ragged,  there's  no  de- 
nying that." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Andrew,  reddening  to  the 
roots  of  his  hair,  "  and  I'd  no  business  to  have 
come  in  the  first  place  ;  but  /(e,"  pointing  at 
Mr.  Wallace,  "  said  it  was  no  matter  if  my 
jacket  was  torn." 

"  And  so  it  is  not,  compared  with  some 
other  things,  such  as  your  not  going  to  Sun- 
day School  at  all,"  replied  Mrs.  Laurie.  "But 
now,  Andrew,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  thought 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARMY.     103 


of  jou  a  number  of  times  last  week,  and  I 
knew  that  you  needed  some  better  clothes,  so 
that  when  you  came  in  here,  you  might  feel 
just  as  respectable  as  any  one.  So  I  went  to 
work,  and  I  have  made  you  a  jacket,  and  I 
have  got  a  pair  of  pants,  and  a  pair  of  shoes, 
and  a  cap,  on  purpose  for  you  to  wear,  if  you 
will  onl}^  come  here,  and  let  me  teach  you  ev- 
ery Sunday  morning.     Xow,  will  you  come  ?  " 

This  was  such  a  kindness  as  Andrew  was 
quite  incapable  of  understanding.  Why  should 
this  lady,  so  well  dressed  and  grand  looking, 
care  so  much  to  have  him  come  to  Sunday 
School  ?  He  glanced  up  at  her,  and  his  eyes 
asked  the  question  that  his  lips  refused  to 
utter.     Mrs.  Laurie  answered  it : 

"  It  is  because  3'ou  have  a  soul  that  will  live 
long,  long  after  your  body  has  crumbled  into 
dust,  and  I  want  you  to  be  happy  in  heaven. 
Will  you  come  ?  " 

"Xes,"  said  Andrew,  "  I  will  come." 


CHAPTER  X. 

T  was  Christmas  moniinfi:,  and  thou- 
sands  of  happy  homes  were  made  hap- 
pier still  by  the  joyous  greetings,  and 
kindly  wishes  befitting  the  season. 
Even  the  dwellings  of  the  poor  were 
to-day  brightened  and  gladdened  by  the  bit  of 
evergreen  in  the  window,  and  the  simple  treat, 
provided  at  the  cost  of  extra  labor  and  self- 
denial,  on  the  part  of  hard-working  parents, 
for  the  sake  of  their  children.  How  strange 
it  is,  that  in  the  thousands  of  feasts  spread, 
the  gifts  exchanged,  the  kind  gi*eetings  ut- 
tered, so  many  forget  Him,  the  anniversar}^  of 
whose  birth  they  celebrate,  and  keep  back 
from  Him  the  one  gift  for  which  he  asks  ;  the 
love  and  devotion  of  the  heai-t ! 

Little  Roxy  and  her  wants  had  not  been 
forgotten  by  her  new  friends  at  this  happy 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AEMY.     105 


time.  On  Christmas  eve,  Mr.  Proctor's  man 
had  left  a  basket  of  good  things  at  the  garret- 
door,  enough  for  a  nice  dinner  for  them  all, 
if  only  the  husband  and  father  would  keep 
sober,  and  enjoy  it  Avith  them,  instead  of  fill- 
ing the  room  with  brutal  threats  and  oaths H 
Mrs.  Kent  had  sent  a  .thick  woolen  wrapper 
for  Eoxy,  and  another  basket  of  fruit,  with 
the  word,  that  she  and  Lily  hoped  to  call  on 
the  morrow  ;  and  Mrs.  Laurie  had  come  her- 
self with  a  book  of  colored  pictures  for  the 
lame  chikl,  and,  waiting  by  the  little  bed,  she 
had  told  her  the  sweet  Christmas  story  of  the 
birth  of  Jesus,  and  the  new  star  that  shone  in 
the  East.  And  now  the  c^lad  morniuo'  had 
come,  and  Eoxy,  with  her  little  book  lying 
open  on  her  lap,  was  as  happy  a  child  as 
could  have  been  foimd  in  all  the  city.  She 
saw  her  mother  go  out  on  a  half  hour's  errand 
without  uttering  a  word  of  regret,  although 
she  must  rema!in  alone,  for  she  had  her  book, 
and  many  new  and  beautiful  thoughts  to  occu- 
py her  mind.     Besides,  since  Mrs.  Kent  had 


106  ANDY   HALL, 


tokl  her  of  the  Saviour,  and  how  he  was  al- 
ways present  to  watch  over  and  guard  his 
children,  she  had  felt  a  peace  in  her  own 
heart,  that  took  every  fear  away  ;  it  was  "  that 
peace  passing  understanding,"  over  which  the 
world  has  no  power.  It  was  a  bitterly  cold 
morning,  and  the  heavy,  leaden  clouds  betok- 
ened a  storm  ere  many  hours  passed ;  but 
what  matter  for  that,  since  a  bright,  warm  fire 
glowed  in  the  grate,  which  was  so  often  emp- 
t}^  ?  Roxy's  heart  was  so  ovei*flowing  with  joy, 
that  she  hummed  a  little  song,  to  give  some 
expression  to  her  gladness  ;  it  had  no  words, 
for  no  one  had  ever  taught  Roxy  sweet 
hymns  of  praise,  but  it  was  a  tune  she  had  of- 
ten heard  Andrew  whistle.  While  she  was 
singing,  the  door  opened  and  her  father  came 
in,  with  a  step  more  steady  than  was  usual 
with  him.  In  an  instant  the  child's  voice  was 
mute,  and  Roxy,  slipping  her  beautiful  picture 
book  under  her  pillow,  lay  perfectly  still,  hop- 
ing to  escape  his  notioe.  But  he  had  observ- 
^   ed  her  quick  gesture,  and,  seeing  that  she  was 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARMY.      107 


alone  in  the  room,  now  approached  her  low 
bed,  and  stood  looking  fiercely  down  upon 
her  white,  frightened  face. 

"Let's  see  what  you  hid  away  there."  This 
was  the  command  that  Roxy  was  compelled  to 
obey.  She  drew  the  book  from  under  her 
pillow  and  silently  handed  it  to  him.  He 
turned  over  a  leaf  or  two,  examined  the  pret- 
tily ornamented  covers,  and  with  a  grin  of 
satisfaction,  slipped  it  into  his  coat-pocket; 
then  he  said  gruffly,  and  with  many  oaths, 
which  we  will  omit,  "You're  dressed  up 
mighty  fine  !  Suppose  you  just  take  ofi"  that 
gown ;  I  want  to  look  at  it." 

Poor  Roxy  felt  the  tears  coming,  but  she 
bravely  kept  them  back,  and  silently  obeyed. 
Her  father  turned  the  pretty  new  garment 
over  and  over  in  his  hands,  muttering  to  him- 
self meanwhile  : 

"  Two  dollars,  if  it's  worth  a  cent !  Two 
dollars  ;  and  the  book ;  well,  say  fifty  cents  ; 
not  a  bad  speculation  for  one  morning.  AVhere 
did  you  get  'em,  Eox?  " 


108  AXDY   HALL, 

"Mrs.  Laurie  gave  me  the  book,  and  Mrs. 
Kent  gave  me  the  gown,"  said  Roxy,  in  a 
tremulous  voice. 

Her  father  stood  looking  down  upon  her 
for  a  few  minutes  in  silence.  ^Yhen  at  length 
he  spoke,  it  was  to  order  her  to  get  up,  and 
find  a  shawl  or  bonnet  to  put  over  her  head. 
Eoxy  looked  up  in  his  hard,  cruel  face,  and 
said  in  a  frightened  whisper,  ''  I  ha'n't  got  a 
shawl  nor  a  bonnet.  "\'\^ere  am  I  going? 
Mayn't  I  wait  till  mother  comes  ?  " 

"You're  going  to  earn  your  living,  you 
lazy,  whining,  good-for-nothing.  You'd  ought 
to  be  ashamed ;  lying  here  day  in  and  day 
out,  for  me  to  take  care  of,  when  you  might 
be  brins^insr  somethinsr.  Here,  take  this  old 
jDiece  of  blanket,  and  pin  it  over  your  head  ; 
it's  better'n  a  shawl,  and  hurry  yourself  so  as 
to  get  out  of  the  way  before  any  of  your  new 
friends  come  to  see  you.  They  might  think 
it  too  cold  for  a  fine  lady  like  you  to  go  out 
to-day." 

Roxy  tremblingly  obeyed  her  father's  direc- 


THE  MISSIOX  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  ARMY.      109 


tions,  without  venturing  another  word.  AYhen 
the  blanket  was  securely  fastened  over  her 
long,  tangled  hair,  and  thin  shoulders,  he 
took  her  up  in  his  arms. 

"  I  suppose  IVe  got  to  carry  you,  heavy  as 
you  are,  poor,  miserable  brat!"  he  said,  an- 
grily. "I  don't  see  what  such  things  are 
made  for,  except  it  is  to  aggravate." 

Roxy  involuntarily  shrtmk  away  from  his 
touch,  and  this  angered  him  still  more. 

"What  are  ye  'fraid  of?"  he  cried,  shaking 
her  arm ;  "  hold  on  to  my  shoulder,  or  I'll  let 
ye  fall  down  the  stairs  and  break  every  bone 
in  your  body  !  Xow  I'll  tell  ye  what  I'm  going 
to  have  ye  do,  and  Avhere  I'm  going  to  carry 
you,"  he  went  on,  as  he  hurried  up  the  street ; 
"I'm  going  to  leave  you  on  the  steps  of  a  big 
meeting-house,  where  there's  to  be  a  meeting 
to-day,  because  it's  Christmas.  When  the 
grand  folks  come  up  the  steps,  you  are  to  put 
out  your  hand  and  ask  for  money ;  tell  some 
pitiful  story,  that  your  father  and  mother  are 
dead,    or   anything   else   you   can  think  of; 


110  ANDY  HALL, 


though  to  be  sure  there  a'li't  much  need  of 
your  speaking,  when  you  look  so  awfully 
yourself." 

"  Shall  I  stay  there  all  alone  ?  "  asked  poor 
Roxy  ;  "  and  it  is  very  cold,  it  makes  me  sick 
it  is  so  cold." 

"I  guess  you  wont  be  very  lonesome," 
sneered  her  father ;  "  there'll  be  folks  enough 
going  by  all  the  time,  and  as  for  the  cold,  I'll 
warrant  you  wont  freeze.  So  shut  up  your 
head.  I've  heard  enough  of  your  talk  Ibr 
once." 

Thus  admonished,  Roxy  spoke  not  another 
word,  but  the  tears  stole  quietly  down  her 
cheeks. 

Arriving  at  the  church  door,  just  as  the 
bells  were  ringing.  Bill  Hall  put  his  burthen 
down  upon  the  steps,  where  none  could  fail 
to  see  her. 

"Now  mind  you  make  your  story  pitiful 
enough,"  was  his  parting  injunction,  "  and 
when  I'm  ready,  I'll  come  and  get  you,  and 
carry    you   home,    and   if   you   have   earned 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AP3IY.      Ill 


euoiigh,  you  shall  have  a  good  supper,  but  if 
you  haveu't,  I'll  seud  you  to  bed  without  a 
mouthful ;  so  miud." 

Eoxy  watched  imtil  he  was  out  of  sight, 
andtheu  her  sobs  burst  forth;  the  blanket, 
that  partly  covered  her  head  and  shoulders, 
was  very  thin,  and  the  sharp  air  penetrated  it, 
sending  cold  shivers  over  her  frame ;  added 
to  this,  the  snow  began  to  fell  in  large  flakes, 
directly  in  her  face,  and  she  was  so  frightened, 
that  she  did  not  dare  to  raise  her  eyes,  or 
speak  to  the  people,  who  were  now  hurrying 
past  her  into  the  church.     And  they  — God 
forgive  them!  — so  accustomed  to  the  sight 
of  beggars,  gave  scarcely  a  single  glance  at 
the  little,  silent,  crouching  figure,  but  went  in 
to  Avorship  and  praise  him  who,  although  the 
King  of  Glory,  humbled  himself  to  be  born  of 
a  virgin,  in  the  manger  at  Bethlehem.     Roxy 
sat  perfectly  still,  and  a  numbness  began  to 
creep  over  her  limbs  ;  suddenly  a  joyous  peal 
from  the  grand  organ  came  ringing  out  upon 
the  frosty  air,  and  sweet  voices  sang  "  Glory 


112  AXDY    ILVLL, 


to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace, 
good  will  to  man." 

"  It  is  heaven  !  "  thought  Roxy,  closing  her 
eyes,  and  a  smile,  soft  and  serene,  settled  on 
her  white  thin  face.  Thoughts  of  Jesus,  the 
dear  Shepherd,  filled  her  heart,  and  she 
longed,  oh  I  how  earnestly,  for  her  place  to 
be  made  ready  in  the  happy  land,  so  that  she 
might  go  thither  and  be  at  rest.  The  music 
died  awa}',  rose  again,  sweeter  and  clearer 
than  before  in  the  glad  strains  of  the  glorious 
Te  Deum,  and  again  died  away,  and  Eoxy 
slept.  Dreams  of  heaven,  of  Jesus,  and  of 
the  angels,  floated  through  her  brain,  and  all 
sense  of  cold  and  pain  was  gone.  Faster  and 
faster  fell  the  feathery  snow,  covering  her 
slender  figure  with  a  mantle  of  white,  and  the 
gusts  of  wind  blew  her  light  curls  about  her 
face,  and  loosened  the  blanket  from  her 
shoulders,  but  Roxy  no  longer  felt  the  cold. 

The  service  was  over,  and  the  eager  throng 
poured  out  from  the  church,  intent  upon  the 
pleasures  of  the  day,  and  almost  pushing  the 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AR3IY.      113 


cliilcl's  figure  from  the  cold  granite  step  in 
tbeir  haste.  Happy  children,  clad  in  rich  furs, 
and  soft,  warm  garments,  turned  not  to  gaze 
into  that  wan  and  pallid  face,  but  skipped 
along  with  dancing  steps,* and  bright  eves,  in 
glad  anticipation  of  pleasures  awaiting  them  ; 
while  mothers,  clasping  fast  the  little  palms  in 
their  gloved  hands,  smiled  down  upon  them, 
nor  cast  a  single  pitying  glance  at  the  uncon- 
scious form,  over  which  the  white  snow  was 
drifting.  Thus,  nearly  eveiy  worshipper  had 
passed  out  of  the  consecrated  place,  and  soon 
the  doors  would  be  closed,  and  Eoxy  left  in 
silence  and  alone.  Alone,  did  I  say  !  Ah,  no  ! 
for  he,  w^hose  loving  eye  watches  over  all,  and 
who  notices  even  the  sparrow's  fall,  was  near 
to  guard  that  little,  unprotected  head.  Roxy 
Avas  not  alone,  and  even  now  he  w^as  sending 
to  her  side  a  friend  to  help  her. 

Mrs.  Laurie  had  lingered  in  the  church 
until  it  was  deserted  by  all  but  the  old  sexton. 
Christmas  time,  so  full  of  joy  and  mirth  to 
others,  was  a  season  of  sacred  peace  to  her; 


114  AXDY     HALL, 


peace,  which  had  come  after  the  deepest  an- 
iruish  and  bereavement. 

Four  years  ago,  and  all  was  sunshine  in 
her  pleasant  home ;  sweet,  childish  voices, 
and  the  patter  of  little  feet  made  music  in  the 
house,  and  there  was  a  strong  and  tender 
arm,  upon  which  she  hoped  to  lean  all  her  life 
long.  But  God  saw,  that  her  heart  was  cling- 
ing too  closely  to  this  frail  support,  and  for- 
getting the  only  true  Rest,  and  so  he  took 
awa^^  from  her  "  the  desire  of  her  eyes  with  a 
stroke,"  leaving  her  desolate.  Another  year 
passed  away,  another  Christmas  came,  and 
deeper  shadows  settled  about  her  path,  for  her 
lirst-born  child  and  her  youngest  darling  lay 
side  by  side  in  one  coffin,  awaiting  their  bu- 
rial. Deep,  indeed,  were  the  .waters  through 
which  this  soul  passed ;  but  there  was  one 
whose  kind  hand  was  stretched  out  to  save 
her  from  sinking ;  and  now,  though  life  was 
no  longer  joyous  as  in  other  days,  Mrs.  Lau- 
rie could  sinsf  with  unfaltering  accents : 


THE  mSSIOX  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARJIY.      115 


"  Though  like  a  wanderer, 

Daylight  all  gone. 

Darkness  be  over  me. 

My  rest  a  btone, 
Yet  in  my  dreams  I'd  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee." 

One  child,  little  Charley,  was  left  her,  and 
to  his  training,  and  deeds  of  love  and  charity, 
she  devoted  her  time  and  attention.  . 

^Irs.  Laurie,  as  we  have  said,  lingered  in 
the  church  until  it  was  empty,  in  the  attitude 
of  prayer.  There  was  something  so  soothing 
in  the  solemn  stillness,  that,  but  for  the 
thought  of  her  boy,  waiting  for  her  at  home, 
she  would  gladly  have  passed  the  entire  day 
within  its  walls.  Rising,  at  length,  she  drew 
her  veil  over  her  face,  and  left  the  church. 
The  storm  was  rapidly  increasing  in  violence, 
and  people  hurried  along  the  street  with  bowed 
heads,  while  gusts  of  wind  swept  sharper 
from  the  northeast.  Mrs.  Laurie  paused  a 
moment  in  the  vestibule,  and  in  this  moment 
her  eye  fell  *ipon  the  snow-covered  figure  of  a 
child,  lying  motionless  upon  the  granite  steps. 
She  stooped  over  it  and  tenderly  whispered  ; 


116  ANDY    HALL, 


"Why  are  you  here,  little  one?"  Xo  an- 
swer came  from  the  stiff,  purple  lips,  and  the 
heavy  lids  lay  motionless  on  the  waxen  cheeks. 
Mrs.  Laurie  pushed  the  light  hair  avva}'  from 
her  brow,  and  with  her  handkercliief  wiped 
the  snow  from'  the  clasped  hands  and  pallid 
face.  Surely  she  had  seen  those  pinched 
features  before  !  and  the  shrunken  limbs  ;  this 
was  not  the  fii-st  time  the}'  had  silently  ap- 
pealed to  her  pit}^  She  looked  more  intent- 
ly, and  exclaimed : 

"  It  is  Andrew  Hall's  sister !  It  is  little 
Roxy  Hall ! " 


'It  is  little  Rox7  Hall."— P.  116, 


CHAPTER  XI. 

jlWfd  ^^^    clou't    aimt   Jenny   and   cousin 
rzjM  Uk  \^  Charley  come  ?  "  sighed  Lily  Kent, 
impatiently,  as  she   stood  with  her 
face  pressed  up  against  the  drawing- 
room  Avindow.     "  Mamma,  what  do 
you  suppose  is  the  reason  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  my  dear.  You  have  asked 
Hilary  and  myself'  the  same  question  half  a 
dozen  times  within  the  last  half  hour.  I 
think  you  had  better  amuse  yourself  with 
your  new  books,  instead  of  watching  for  your 
aunt  and  cousin."  Thus  admonished,  Lily 
left  the  window,  and  for  about  five  minutes 
bent  over  the  little  table  on  which  were 
spread  her  Christmas  presents.  But  her 
thou2:hts  refused  to  centre  on  them,  beautiful 
as  they  were,  and  she  soon  returned  to  the 


118  ANDY   HALL, 


window,  and  resumed  her  former  position  in 
silence. 

"  There  is  Donald,  mamma  !  "  she  cried,  at 
length.  "  Oh,  I'm  afraid  something  has  hap- 
pened and  aunt  Jenny  cannot  come.  AVont 
it  be  too  bad?" 

Taylor  came  in  in  a  moment  with  a  note 
from  Mrs  Laurie,  which  required  an  answer. 
jMi's.  Kent  read  it  aloud  to  Hilarj^  and  Lily. 
It  was  as  follows  ; 

*'  Dear  Sistek  : — 

Little  Roxy  Hall,  in  whom  we  have  felt  so 
nuich  interest,  is  under  mj^  roof — I  fear — dj'lDg. 
I  found  her  on  the  church  steps  an  hour  since, 
and  brought  her  home.  Dr.  Maxwell  is  here, 
but  we  have  not  as  yet  ben  able  to  restore  her 
to  consciousness,  and  he  apprehends  the  worst. 
You  will  see  that  I  cannot  be  with  you  to-da^', 
and  as  Charlej'  is  not  ver}'  well.  I  think  it  best  to 
keep  him  at  home.  I  regret  this  on  Lily's  acconnt, 
but  she  would  not  wish  me  to  leave  poor  little 
Roxy,  I  am  sure.  I  haA^e  sent  word  to  Mrs.  Hall 
that  h(r  child  is  here,  though  one  who  wonld  suffer 
such  a  sickly  creature  to  be  exposed  to  such  a 
stonn  as  this,  can  scarcely  feel  anxiety  in  regard 
to  her.     Will  you  ask  brother  Walter  to  go   to 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AR3IY.     119 


their  miserable  home,  and  if  Andrew  is  there, 
persuade  him  to  come  and  see  Roxy.  Her  death 
may  have  a  softening  influence  upon  him,  and  I 
cannot  but  feel  a  deep  interest  in  the  wayward 
bo}'.     In  haste, 

Your's  trulj', 

Jenny  Laukie." 

Mr.  Kent  readily  promised  to  go  iu  search 
of  Andrew,  and  Donald  w^as  dismissed. 

Lily,  who  had  listened  to  her  aunt's  letter, 
noW'  silently  left  the  room,  and  v»'ent  up  to  her 
own  little  chamber,  with  a  heavj^  heart.  She 
threw  herself  upon  her  low^  couch,  and  burst 
into  a  flood  of  bitter  tears.  It  was  not  be- 
ctiuse  she  was  disappointed  of  her  day's  ex- 
pected pleasure,  though  ordinarily  this  would 
h:ive  been  a  severe  trial,  but  conscience  re- 
proached her,  and  conscience  is  a  terrible 
reprover. 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  only  carried  my  Nelly,  and 
given  her  to  Eoxy  that  da}^  when  mamma 
and  I  went  to  see  her !  "  she  sobbed.  "  It 
would  have  made  her  so  happy,  and  now  she 
Ls  i^oin;^  to  die,  and  I  can  never,  never  do 


120  A>DY   HALL, 


anything  for  her  again  !  Oh,  I  am  selfish  ! 
jManima  says  that  I  am,  and  I  know  it.  I 
wish  I  had  earned  my  doll  to  Itoxy.  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  never  l)e  happy  again." 

Hilary,  who  had  eome  to  her  room  for  some 
trifle,  overheard  her  little  sister's  deep  gobs, 
and  opening  the  door  went  in  and  sat  down 
beside  her,  and  drew  the  pretty  curly  head 
to  her  bosom,  sa^dng  tenderly — 

"Why,  Lily,  darling,  Avhat  is  the  trouble?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  unhappy,  Hilary,"  sobbed 
Lily,  cKnging  close  to  her  sister's  neck.  ''  I 
was  selfish  and  wouldn't  give  my  Nell}'  to 
poorEox}',  and  now  Roxy  is  going  to  die,  and 
I  can't  do  anything  to  make  her  happy,  ever 
a^-ain." 

''Did  mamma  wish  you  to  give  her  your 
doll?" 

"  She  didn't  say  so,  but  she  told  rSe  if  I 
wanted  to  be  generous  I  must  give  away 
something  that  I  would  miss,  and  would  like 
to  keep  m^'self,  and  that  made  me  think  of 
m}'  Nelly,  for  I  know   Eox}'   couldn't   help 


TPIE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AP3IY.     121 


liking  such  a  beauty,  aud  there  was  nothing 
of  my  own  that  I  would  miss  so  much ;  and 
then  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  not  give 
her  up  at  any  rate;  so  I.  went  with  mamma, 
aud  did  not  carry  her  anything  at  all,  because 
I  said  I  would  make  up  my  mind  afterwards 
what  I  would  give  her.  And  now,  she  is 
going  to  die,  Hilary  !  Oh,  dear,  I  don't  know 
what  to  do."  Lily  sobbed  as  though  her 
heart  would  break,  aud  Hilary  tried  to  think 
what  she  could  say  to  comfort  her. 

"  You  would  not  have  felt  so  badly,  Lily," 
she  said  presently,  "  if  you  had  not  heard  of 
Eoxy's  illness,  would  you?" 

"I  guess  not,"  replied  Lily,  "because  I 
kept  thinking  I  would  do  something  for  her, 
until  now — it  is  too  late." 

"  But  my  dear  Lily,"  said  Hilary,  "  if  Eoxy 
should  die,  do  not  you  see  that  this  will  be  a 
lesson  to  you  ;  a  sad  lesson,  it  is  true,  but  one 
that  you  Aviil  not  soon  forget?  Vrill  it  not 
teach  my  little  sister  to  deny  herself  for  the 
sake  of  others,  and  not  to  put  off  until 
another  time  what  she  ought  to  do  at  once  ? 


122  ANDY    HALL, 


"  Oh,  yes,"  sighed  Lily,  "  I  do  hope  I  will 
never  be  sellish  any  more.  I  wish  I  had 
giveu  her  my  Kelly,  but  I  can't  help  it  now. 
1  shall  never  see  Nelly  again  without  thinkiug 
of  Koxy." 

"You  Avill  never  become  generous  and 
self-denying,  darliug,  by  only  hoping  or  wish- 
iug  to  be  so,"  said  Hilary,  kissing  the  flushed 
cheek,  that  lay  close  to  her  own.  "  There  is 
but  one  wa}^  to  overcome  sinful  dispositions 
and  habits." 

"  I  know,"  said  Lily,  quickl}^  "  it  is  only 
Jesus  that  can  help  me,  but  I  never  asked 
him  to  make  me  generous.  Do  you  think  I 
oua'ht,  sister?" 

"  Why,  yes,  indeed.  Nothing  that  troubles 
or  tries  us  is  too  small  or  trifling  to  bring  to 
our  dear  Saviour  in  prayer." 

Lily  sat  thinkiug  for  several  minutes,  wLiile 
her  sobs  grew  fainter  and  less  frequent.  At 
length  she  slipped  from  Hilary's  arms  and  fell 
upon  her  knees,  whispering — 

"  Hilary,  will  you  ask  Jesus  for  me  ?  " 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARINIY.     123 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Hilary,  "but  you  must  also 
ask  for  yourself  every  day,  Lily.  My  prayers 
will  not  take  the  place  of  yours." 

"  I  shall  not  forget — 1  aui  sure  I  shall  never 
forget  to  ask  him,  and  I  hope  he  will  please 
to  hear  me." 

"He  surely  will,  my  dear.  Jesus  never 
tarns  away  from  any  who  sincerely  seek  him. 
Do  you  remember  the  beautiful  hymn  which 
says — 

'  Jesus  listens  when  I  pray, 
He  will  wash  my  sins  away, 
He  will  make  me  pure  and  mild, 
He  will  bless  a  little  child ; 
I  will  go  to  him — nor  fear. 
For  he  loves  my  prayer  to  hear. 

I  have  often  left  the  fold, 
And  in  valleys  lone  and  cold 
Wandered  weary  and  alone, 
Seeking  rest  and  finding  none. 
Jesus,  Shepherd,  I  implore 
Let  me  stray  away  no  more.'  " 

"Kever  fear,  Lily,  that  the  Good  Shepherd 
will  refuse  to  listen  to  the  prayers  of  his 
lambs." 

"  Butj  sister  Hilary,"  said  Lily,  hesitatingly, 


124  ANDY   ILUX, 


"  I  am  afraid  that  I  am  not  one  of  his  lambs. 
I  Avant  to  be,  I  really  want  to  be,  sometimes ; 
and  then,  I  forget  all  about  it,  and  the  lirst  I 
know,  I  am  doing  something  naughty,  or 
speaking  impatiently.  Oh,  dear,  I  Avish  I 
were  good  like  you  I  Do  you  think,  Hilary, 
that  you  ever  wandered  away  into  'the  val- 
leys dark  and  cold?'" 

"Yc3,  darling,  many,  many  times?"  said 
Hilary,  sighing,  "  but,  Lily,  it  is  my  greatest 
desire  tg  stay  within  the  fold.  It  is  so  sweet 
to  feel  that  Jesus  is  near  to  care  for,  and 
guard  us  ;  and  that  he  will  never,  never  leave 
the  lambs  of  his  flock  to  perish." 

"I  wonder  if  Eoxy  loves  him,"  said  Lily, 
suddenly.  "  Mamma  told  her  about  him,  and 
about  heaven,  wh^n  we  were  there,  and  she 
wanted  mamma  to  get  a  place  for  her  in 
heaven.  She  didn't  seem  to  know  anything 
about  Jesus ;  but  how  could  she,  HiUuy,  if 
no  oue  had  ever  told  her?  Don't  you  think 
Jesus  loves  her?  " 

"I  Jim  sure  that  he  does,"  answered  Hilary, 


TIIE  MISSION  SCHOLAE  IX  THE  ARMY.      125 


"  for  Lis  love  is  so  great  that  it  takes  in  all  the 
world.  He  has  ways  of  teaching  poor  ignorant 
little  ones  that  we  know  nothing  al)ont,  and  if 
little  Eoxy,  when  she  heard  of  heaven,  wanted 
to  go  thither,  I  can't  help  thinking  that  the 
dear  Saviour  took  the  wish  for  a  prayer,  and 
when  she  dies  will  receive  her  there.  But 
you,  dear  Lily,"  continued  Hilary,  ^'  you  are 
not  ignorant ;  you  have  been  taught,  ever 
since  you  were  old  enough  to  understand  any- 
thing, 3'our  duty  to  God.  When  you  were  a 
very  small  baby,  papa  and  manuna  gave  you 
to  him.  Yom'  privileges  have  been  far 
greater  than  Eox}''s ;  and  therefore  you  will 
be  called  to  give  a  more  strict  account. 
Dear  little  sister,  if  you  sometimes  fear  that 
3^ou  are  not  one  of  the  lambs  of  Christ's  flock, 
let  this  holy  Christmas  day,  be  the  time  when 
you  shall  most  earnestly  pray  that  he  will 
make  you  one.  You  are  not  too  young  to  be 
a  Christian,  Lily." 

"I  know  it,  Hilary,"  and  Lily  raised  her 
earnest  face,  "  and  I"  will  ask  him,  with  all 
my  heart." 


126  ANDY   ILVLL. 


So  the  two  sisters  knelt  side  by  side,  and 
prayed  for  God's  blessing.  It  was  a  hallowed 
hour,  and  one  which  they  will  remember  with 
joy  through  the  long  ages  of  eternity. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

'^^)  S  this  heayen?"    asked  Roxy,    where 
after  lying  motiouless  for  nearly  two 
hours  she  slowly  opened  her  eyes,  and 
looked  about  her. 
^       "  Is  this  heaven  !  " 
"  No,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Laurie,  bending  over 
her  with  a  sweet  smile.     "  It  is  not  heaven, 
but  perhaps  you  may  soon  be  in  that  beautiful 
place." 

"It  can't  be  beautifuller  than  this,"  said 
Eoxy,  faintly.  "  It  was  so  cold,  and  now  it 
is  warm ;  I  was  so  frightened  to  be  left  all 
alone,  but  I  ain't  frightened  now ;  thought  I 
saw  Jesus  coming  down  through  the  snow, 
and  he  took  me  in  his  arms,  and  carried  me 
away  where  the  sun  shined  and  birds  were 
singing,  and  there  were  sweet,  white  flowers 

127 


128      THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AEMY. 


all  in  full  bloom,  and  then  I  forgot  what  hap- 
pened next ;  but  this  must  be  heaven. 

]\Irs.  Laurie  held  a  cordial  to  Rox^-'s  pale 
lips,  and  said  gently, 

"  You  have  been  very  sick,  Roxy,  and  I 
want  you  to  lie  still  now.  The  doctor  says 
you  must  be  very  quiet,  and  not  talk  any 
more  at  present.  Shut  your  eyes,  dear,  and 
try  to  sleep." 

Roxy  would  have  obe}'ed,  but  it  was  im- 
possible w^here  all  was  so  strange  and  beauti- 
ful. The  pretty  paper  on  the  walls,  the 
bright  carpet  that  covered  the  floor,  the  full 
window  draperies,  the  easy  chairs  and 
lounges,  the  vases  of  flowers  upon  the  table 
and  mantle-piece,  the  wreaths  of  evergreen, 
and  the  bright  plumaged  bird  that  warbled 
in  its  gilded  cage,  the  line  engravings  and 
books  that  hung  from  the  walls  and  filled 
two  or  three  book  racks,  all  these  things 
claimed  the  attention  of  the  wondering  child, 
and,  exhausted  as  she  was,  prevented  her 
sleeping. 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  ARMY.     129 


*'  She  cannot  live  long,  ma'am,"  said  Re- 
becca, Charley's  uarse,  in  a  whisper  to  Mrs. 
Laurie,  "  Don't  yon  see  the  light  in  her  eyes 
is  so  bright,  it  almost  scorches  one  to  look  at 
Lcr,  and  her  pv;or  little  lingers  picking  away 
at  the  blankets?  I've  seen  a  good  deal  of 
sickness  and  death  in  my  day,  and  I'm  sure 
the  child  is  near  gone  ;  so  let  her  talk,  ma'am, 
if  she  vrill,  and  don't  bother  her  by  telling  her 
to  keep  still." 

But  Roxy  was  quiet  for  some  minutes,  and 
apparently  contented  and  happy  to  lie  still,  so 
long  as  Mrs.  Laurie's  cool,  soft  hand  rested 
on  her  burnins;  forehead. 

''  It  is  not  necessar}^  for  me  to  remain  with 
you  longer,"  said  Doctor  ]Maxwell,  who  had 
watched  Roxy  in  silence  for  more  than  an 
hour.  "  Rebecca  is  right.  The  child  may 
live  the  dav  out.  but  no  lono:cr,  I  think.  You 
have  only  to  make  her  comfortable." 

"  Then  there  is  no  hope  of  her  recoveiy  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Laurie. 

"  None,  whatever,  madam,"  replied  the  doc- 


130  ANDY    HALL, 


tor.  "Even  ^vithoiit  this  last  exposure  she 
could  liiive  lived  but  ii  short  tnue.  It  will  l)e 
a  mercy  when  she  breathes  her  last,  i)o(>r 
sufiercr  I  "  He  left  the  room  as  he  s^wke,  and 
Eoxy,  turning  her  head  towards  Mrs.  Laurie, 
lixed  her  blue  eyes  upon  her  face,  and  said 
softly,  ''  I  M'ish  I  could  see  Andy.  I  v,ant  to 
tell  him  something." 

"I  hope  he  will  soon  be  here,  said  ?.Irs. 
Laurie.  ''  I  thought  you  would  like  to  see 
him,  and  he  has  been  sent  for." 

"  Did  3'ou  send  for  my  mother,  too  ?  " 

"  I  sent  her  word  that  you  were  here  and 
sick,  and  I  tliink  she  w^ill  come  to  see  you." 

"Andy  has  been  real  good  to  me,  and  so 
has  mother,  almost  ahcai/s.  I  Avish  Andy 
would  love  Jesus,  so  as  to  have  a  place  in 
heaven." 

"  I  hope  he  will,  Koxy." 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  him  to  promise  me  to  go 
to  your  Sunday  School  all  the  time,  so  that  he 
may  learn  how  to  be  good ;  and  you'll  help 
him,  wont  ^'ou,  because  you're  so  kind  to 
me,  and  he  is  mv  brother?  " 


THE  MISSIOX  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARMY.     131 


"Yes,  clear,"  said  Mrs.  Laurie,  fervently. 
"  I  will  do  all  that  is  in  my  power  for  Andy, 
for  your  sake,  as  well  as  for  his  own." 

Eoxy  looked  her  thanks,  and  laid  her  small 
fingers  caressingly  on  Mrs.  Laurie's  hand. 

"  It  hurts  me  to  talk  right  here,"  she  whis- 
pered, laying  her  free  hand  upon  her  chest. 
"  It  never  hurt  me  so  before,  I  wish  the  pain 
would  go  away." 

"It  will  not  last  long,  dear  child,"  said 
Mrs.  Laurie.  "Jesus  will  help  you  bear  it 
patiently,  if  you  ask  him,  and  soon,  very  soon, 
all  your  pains  will  be  over,  and  you  will  be 
happy  with  him." 

"  O,  I  am  glad  !  "  cried  Roxy,  with  a  bright 
smile.  "I  want  to  see  him,  and  have  him 
take  me  in  his  arms  just  as  he  used  to  take 
little  children  when  he  lived  here ;  then  I 
shan't  ever  be  sick  any  more.  What  do  little 
children  do  up  in  heaven  ?  " 

"I  cannot  tell  you,  only  they  are  very 
happy,  and  I  suppose  they  sing  together,  and 
Jesus   teaches    them   many   beautiful   things 


132  AXDY    HALL, 


that  they  would  never  learn  on  this  sinful 
earth." 

"I  Avill  learn  to  sing,  then,"  said  Roxy,  joy- 
fully. "I  do  love  to  hear  siu^'ino^.  O,  I 
heard  such  sweet  music  when  I  was  sitting  on 
the  cold  steps.  It  was  loud,  and  it  made  me 
want  to  cry,  I  was  so  happy  !  Can  you  sing?' 
"Yes,  dear;  shall  I  sing  to  you?  " 
Roxy  nodded  her  head,  and  as  the  sweet 
strains  of  the  beautiful  hymn, 

"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul," 

fell  upon  her  ear,  her  eyelids  closed,  and  she 
fell  into  a  light  slumber.  Mrs.  Laurie  kept  on 
singing  until  Eebeccfi,  who  had  left  the  room, 
now  returned,  followed  by  some  one  who 
seemed  loth  to  enter." 

"Come  along,"  said  the  woman  encour- 
agingly. "You  needn't  be  afraid.  The 
little  girl  wants  to  see  you." 

Thus  urged,  Andrew  Hall  came  in,  and, 
with  his  cap  in  his  hand,  his  hair  falling  over 
his  face,  and  his  eyes  cast  down,  stood  before 
bi:3  Sundaj^  School  teacher,  who  greeted  him 
kindlv^ 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AEMF.      1.33 


"O,  Andy!"  cried  Eoxy,  roused  by  the 
oiDeniDg  of  the  door  and  the  interruption  of 
the  singing,  "I'm  real  glad  you've  come. 
I'm  going  to  heaven.  Did  you  know  it, 
Andy?" 

Andrew  did  not  speak,  neither  did  he  raise 
his  eyes ;  he  was  afraid  to  look  in  his  little 
sister's  face,  for  Eebecca  had  told  him  she 
was  dying,  and  he  was  frightened. 

"  Ain't  mother  coming  to  see  me  ?  "  asked 
Eoxy.  "Don't  she  know  that  I'm  going  to 
heaven  ?  " 

"They  told  her  you  were  sick,"  replied 
Andrew,  scarcely  above  a  Avhisper ;  "  but  she 
a'n't  coming,  I  guess." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Eoxy. 

"  She's  been  drinking,  and  so's  father,  till 
they  can't  stir." 

"O,  dear!  I  wish  they  wouldn't.  Andy, 
,wont  you  come  here  a  minute?  I  want  to 
ask  you  something." 

Andrew  approached  the  couch  on  which 
Eoxy  lay,  and  sat  down  upon  a  cricket  that 
Eebecca  had  placed  for  him. 


134  AXDY     TTATL, 


"Father  had  been  drinking  when  he  carried 
me  to  the  church  steps  to  beg,"  said  Roxy. 

"I  know  it,"  cried  Andrew,  clutching  his 
hands  together,  while  his  brown  cheeks 
flushed  with  anger.  "  I  know  it,  and  if  you 
die,  Eoxy,  he's  done  it ;  that's  all  ?  " 

"  It  was  rum  that  made  hini,  Andy.  It  is 
rum  that  makes  him  beat  mother  and  you, 
and  frighten  us  al]  so,  isn't  it?" 

"  I  guess  so.  Yes  it  is.  It  makes  him 
most  crazy." 

"When  I  go  to  heaven  I  can't  talk  to  j^ou, 
Andy.  Not  till  you  come  there,  too.  Shan't 
you  miss  me  a  little  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Andrew.  He  tried  to  say 
something  else,  but  his  voice  choked. 

"  I  thought  you  would,"  said  Roxy,  smiling ; 
"  but  I'm  going  to  learn  to  sing,  and  I  shall 
be  happy  all  the  time,  and  never  have  any 
more  pain.  I  want  you  to  promise  me  two 
things,  Andy,  before  I  go.     Will  you?"    , 

The  boy  bowed  his  head,  and  dashed  his 
hand  across  his  eyes. 


TILE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AEMY.      135 


"  I  want  you  to  promise  to  go  to  Mi^. 
Laurie's  Sunday  School  every  Sunday,  so  that 
she  may  tell  you  about  Jesus.  Will  you, 
Andy?" 

"Yes,  I  will,"  said  Andrew. 

"  O,  I'm  so  glad  !  "  exclaimed  Roxy ;  then 
glancing  at  Mrs.  Laurie,  she  added,  "  and 
you'll  be  real  good  to  him,  wont  you?" 

"I  will  try  to  be,  certainly,"  said  Mrs. 
Laurie. 

"  And  if  he's  naughty,  jou  wont  scold  him, 
as  mother  does  ?  " 

"Xo,  dear,  I  hope  not." 

"  It  makes  him  mad  to  be  scolded  or  whip- 
ped ;  don't  it,  Andy?" 

He  made  no  reply  to  this  question,  and 
Roxy  proceeded  in  a  still  more  earnest  voice  : 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  me,  Andy,  that 
you  never  will  drink  another  drop  of  whiskey 
or  rum,  or  anything  else  that  makes  people 
drunk."  She  paused,  and  looked  steadily  in 
her  brother's  face,  but  Andrew  was  silent. 

"  Wont  you  promise  me  ?  "  she  asked  again, 


136  AXDY    HALL, 


in  a  tone  of  melting  pathos.  ''  O,  Andy,  it  is 
so  dreadful  to  think  of  your  being  like  father." 

"  I  never  will  be  like  him,"  exclaimed  An- 
drew, with  angry  energy. 

"  But  you  will  if  you  drink  such  dreadful 
stuff  as  he  does.  O,  Andy,  do  iDromise  me 
that  you  wont;  I  shall  never  ask  you  an}'- 
thing  again,  for  I'm  going  to  heaven,  and  it 
will  make  me  so  happy  if  I  know  that  you 
are  going  to  try  and  be  good." 

The  boy  now,  for  the  first  time  during  this 
interview,  raised  his  eyes  to  his  sister's  anx- 
ious face.  It  was  flushed  and  tearful,  and 
stamped  with  the  finger  of  death.  His  hard 
face  softened  as  he  gazed,  and  two  gi-eat  un- 
bidden tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

"  O,  you're  going  to  promise  !  I  know  you 
are,  for  I  see  it  in  your  eyes  !  "  cried  Roxy, 
joyfully.     "  How  glad  I  am  !  " 

"I  don't  like  to  promise,  unless  I'm  sure  I 
will  keep  my  word,"  said  Andrew.  "I'm 
afraid  I  shall  forget  when  I'm  with  Sam 
James  and  the  other  fellows,  and  they'll  get 
me  drinking  before  I  know  it.'* 


THE  MISSTOX  SniOLAR  IX  THE  AKMY.     137 


"  But  you'll  think  of  me,  Andy,  and  then 
you  wont  forget,"  said  Eoxy. 

"  And  there  is  a  great  and  powerful  Friend, 
who  is  ready  to  help  you  keep  your  pro- 
mise," interrupted  Mrs.  Laurie.  "Don't  be 
afraid  to  promise,  Andrew,  but  trust  in  him." 

"Yes,"  said  Roxy,  "it  is  Jesus;  the  one 
you  are  going  to  learn  about  in  Sunday 
School ;  and  I  am  going  to  live  with  him .  in 
heaven,  for  I  asked  him  to  make  a  place  for 
me  there,  and  I  know  he  will  take  care  of 
you." 

Suddenly  Eoxy  paused,  and  a  deathly 
pallor  overspread*  her  face.  She  looked  wist- 
fully at  Mrs.  Laurie,  who  held  a  cordial  to 
her  lips,  and  smiled  down  upon  her,  as  she 
said  tenderly, 

"You  will  soon  be  with  him,  my  dear  child, 
in  that  blessed  place.  He  is  with  you  even 
now,  although  you  cannot  see  him,  and  he 
will  never  forsake  you  now.  Your  pain  will 
soon  be  over,  for 

'  Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed 
Seem  soft  as  downy  pillows  are.'  " 


138  AXDY    HALL, 


Roxy  smiled — a  sweet,  patient  smile — but 
the  pain  that  racked  her  slender  frame  was 
as  much  as  she  could  ]jcar.  She  turned  once 
more  to  Andrew,  and  n'atherin":  all  her  ro- 
maining  strength,  she  clasped  his  hand  in 
both  her  own,  and  gasped,  "  Andy,  Andy, 
icont  you  promise  !  " 

"I  will,"  said  the  poor  boy,  falling  on  his 
knees  beside  her,  and  hiding  his  face  in  the 
cushions.  ''I  do  promise  you,  Rox3%  that  I 
will  never  drink  anj^thing  that  wonld  make 
me  a  drunkard  like — like  father,  as  long  as  I 
live!" 

Roxy's  face  grew  brighter  at  these  solemnly 
spoken  words,  and  she  closed  her  eyes  with 
a  sisfh  of  relief.  Her  little  streno-th  was 
almost  exhausted ;  but  she  lay  quietly  for 
two  or  three  hours,  while  Mrs.  Laurie  bathed 
her  head,  or  chafed  her  cold  limbs,  and 
Andrew  sat  near,  scarceh^  moving  his  eyes 
from  her  face  for  a  moment. 

It  was  nearly  sunset  of  the  short  Decem- 
ber day  when  Eoxy  spoke  again. 


THE  inSSIOX  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AmiY.      139 


"I  see  Jesus  !  "  she  said,  faintly.  "  I  ain't 
afraid.  Andy,  I'm  going  now ;  you  come, 
too,  there'll  be  a  place  for  you  in  heaven ! " 
Then  there  was  a  short  gasp  for  breath,  a 
faint  sigh,  and  the  little  sufferer  was  at  rest. 

Mrs.  Laurie  closed  the  lids  over  the  soft 
blue  ej^es,  and  smoothed  the  light  hair  away 
from  the  blue  veined  temples,  and  as  Andrew 
came  forward  and  stooped  to  kiss  his  sister's 
face,  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  head,  and 
said  gently, 

"  ^lay  Eoxy's  death  be  sanctified  to  you, 
and  lead  3'ou  to  put  your  ti'ust  in  the  Saviour 
whom  she  loved,  so  that  you  may  meet  her  in 
heaven  ?" 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

N  accordance  with  his  promise  to  Roxy, 
Andrew  Hall  continued  to  attend  the 
mission  Sunday  School,  but  he  was  a 
most  refractory  and  troublesome  scholar. 
There  was  no  species  of  mischief  in 
wliich  he  did  not  delight,  and  his  restlessness 
was  so  contagious,  that  Mrs.  Laurie  was  oblig- 
ed to  admit  that  her  class  was  the  most  disor- 
derly in  the  school. 

An  idea  of  Andrew  as  a  Sunday  School 
scholar  for  the  first  eighteen  months  of  hts 
attendance,  can  be  better  conveyed  to  the 
reader,  by  a  somewhat  particular  account  of 
his  conduct  during  one  session  of  the  school. 

It  was  a  bright  May  morning,  and  even  in 
the  city,  glimpses  of  spring  had  appeared  to 
warm  and  cheer  the  hearts  of  those  who  had 
sufiered  from  the  long  and  inclement  winter. 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  ARMY.     141 

Those  who  have  had  much  experience  in 
Sunday  School  teaching,  cannot  have  failed  to 
observe  the  jDeculiar  restlessness  of  children 
at  this  season  of  the  year.  From  the  first  of 
May,  until  the  warm  summer  weather  is  estab- 
lished, the  teacher  needs  to  exercise  all  the 
patience  he  possesses,  in  order  to  endure  the 
demands  made  upon  it ;  and  even  then,  he 
keenly  feels  how  poorly  he  has  succeeded  in 
fixing  the  wandering  thoughts,  or  impressing 
the  truth  upon  the  minds  of  his  charge. 

Andrew  seemed  peculiarly  afiected  by  the 
genial  weather,  and  even  less  inclined  than 
usual  to  submit  to  the  discipline  of  the  school. 
On  this  particular  morning  he  was  late,  and 
finding  the  outer  door  closed  and  locked,  ac- 
cording to  the  rule  of  Mr.  Wallace,  until  after 
the  opening  exercises,  he  sat  down  upon  the 
threshold,  and  at  short  intervals  thumped  his 
head  against  the  door,  until  the  key  was  turn- 
ed, and  he  was  permitted  to  enter. 

Slowly,  but  with  great-  clatter,  he  mounted 
the  stairs,  at  the  head  of  which,  either  by  ac- 


142  ANDY  HALL, 

cident  or  design,  his  Testament  and  hymn- 
book  fell  from  his  hand,  and  made  a  l)ack- 
ward  trip  to  the  outer  door.  Of  course,  An- 
drew wen^45ack  for  them,  jumping  down  two 
steps  at  a  time,  thereby  drawing  the  attention 
of  every  scholar,  and  most  of  the  teachers. 
He  ascended  the  stairs  this  time  very  rapidly, 
and  noisily  crossed  the  hall,  cramming  his  cap 
up  into  his  coat  sleeve,  and  forcibly 'ejecting 
a  small  boy  from  the  seat  usually  occupied  by 
himself,  accompanying  the  exploit  with  a  sly 
wink  and  gTimace,  at  ]\Ii-.  AVallace,  whose 
back  was  for  a  moment  turned.  As  soon  as 
he  was  fairly  seated,  Mrs.  Laurie  went  on 
with  the  business  that  his  coming  had  inter- 
ruj^ted. 

"  Would  you  like  this  book,  Johnny  ?  "  she 
asked  the  little  fellow  who  had  been  shoved 
from  his  corner  of  the  bench,  and  who  now 
stood  beside  her,  casting  malignant  glances  at 
Andrew.  "  It  is  a  yery  nice  book,  about  a  boy 
who  went  to  live  in  the  country.  I  think  it 
would  please  3'ou." 


THE  mSSIOX  SCJIOLAR  IX  THE  AHjIY.     143 


Before  Jolinm'  had  time  to  reply,  the  volume 
was  suatehecl  from  Mrs.  Laurie's  hands,  and 
Andrew  was  busy  searching  for  the  frontis- 
piece, and  other  illustrations. 

"Andrew,  you  are  very  rude,"  said  Mrs. 
Laurie.     "  Hand  me  the  book  immediately. 

"  I  want  it,"  returned  Andrew.  "  He  can 
take  another  one  just  as  well,  and  I  want  to 
see  what  this  is,  about  fishino-." 

Mrs.  Laurie,  however,  very  properly  in- 
sisted that  the  book  should  be  handed  back  to 
her. 

"  Xow,"  she  remarked,  passing  another  to 
Andrew,  '*  you  may  take  that ;  it  is  also  very' 
interesting." 

"  I  wont  have  any,"  muttered  Andrew.  "  I 
wont  come  next  Sunday." 

"  Teacher,"  whispered  Johnny,  ''  he  says  he 
wont  come  next  Sunday." 

"  He  must  do  as  he  pleases  about  that,"  said 
Mrs.  Laurie,  looking  seriously  at  the  perverse 
boy,  who  sat  with  his  head  bent  forward,  the 
personification  of  sulkiness.     "  I  cannot  obhVe 


144  AXDY   HALL. 

him  to  come.  Now,"  she  added,  alter  a  mo- 
mcDt's  pause,  "  we  will  turn  to  our  lesson  for 
to-day.     What  chapter  is  it,  class?" 

"Fifth  of  Matthew,  ninth  verse."  . 

"  Very  well,  please  find  the  place."  Every 
one  but  Andrew,  turned  to  the  passage  ;  he 
put  his  book  down  upon  the  bench,  and  look- 
ed out  of  the  window. 

"  Andrevr,  find  3'our  place,"  said  Mrs.  Lau- 
rie. 

"  I  ha'n't  got  no  lesson." 

"  Find  your  place,  at  once." 

The  Testament  was  taken  up,  turned  over, 
and  laid  down  again ;  and  again  Mrs.  Laurie 
repeated  her  command.  Andrew  silently  re- 
fused to  obey,  but  sat  sulkily,  the  centre  of 
observation  for  the  class.  Mrs.  Laurie  felt 
that  were  she  to  yield,  her  authority  over  the 
wayward  boy  was  gone  forever !  She  had 
often  been  thus  tried  in  the  mouths  that  bad 
passed,  since  he  became  a  member  of  the 
school,  and,  although  final!}'  the  conqueror, 
the  recurrence  of  such  scenes   led  her  to  fear 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AR^IY.     145 


that  he  was  coufidently  expecting  a  different 
result.  She  laid  aside  her  Bible,  and  fixing  her 
eyes  upon  him,  said  gently,  but  firmly, 

"  Andrew,  I  will  give  you  five  minutes  by 
my  watch,  to  open  your  Testament  and  find 
the  place.  You  must  do  it  in  that  time,  or 
leave  my  class.  I  shall  be  sorry  to  lose  you, 
for  I  am  interested  for  you,  and  I  promised 
your  little  sister  to  teach  you  about  the  Sav- 
iour whom  she  loved,  but  I  cannot  have  a 
scholar  who  refuses  to  obey  me." 

She  took  her  watch,  as  she  spoke,  and  held 
it  in  her  hand.  One,  two,  three,  four  minutes 
passed,  and  the  fifth  was  almost  gone,  w^hen 
Andrew  reluctantly  took  up  the  little  volume, 
and  carelessly  turned  its  sacred  pages.  jNIrs. 
Laurie  made  no  comment,  but  put  away  her 
watch,  and  resumed  her  Bible.  She  always 
succeeded  in  interesting  her  class  in  the  les- 
son, and  this  morning  she  explained  very 
clearly  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  peace-mak- 
ers," and  showed  them,  by  many  pointed  il- 
lustrations, "  how  good  and  how  pleasant  a 


146  ANDY    HALL, 


thing  it  is  for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in 
unit}'."  All  but  Andrew  were  absorbed  in 
the  animated  teaching,  and  even  he  could  not 
entirely  resist  the  charm  of  her  manner.  He 
was  ashamed,  however,  to  let  it  be  seen  that 
he  was  attending,  and  so  kept  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  window,  and  his  feet  shulHing  against 
the  round  of  his  seat,  in  a  most  annoj^ng 
fashion.  His  ill  behavior  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  lesson,  had  occupied  so  much  of 
the  half  hour  devoted  to  recitations,  that  the 
bell  rang  for  order  before  ]Mrs.  Laurie  had 
finished  what  she  had  to  say.  During  the 
closing  exercises,  Andrew  occupied  himself  in 
a  variety  of  ways.  First,  he  pinched  the  boy 
w^ho  sat  nearest  him  so  suddenly  that  the  lit- 
tle fellow  jumped  from  his  seat,* and  uttered  a 
half  shriek  that  set  the  whole  class  in  an  up- 
roar, while  Mr.  Wallace  was  obliged  to  wait, 
with  the  singing-book  in  his  hand,  until  order 
was  restored  ;  then  he  pulled  from  his  jacket- 
pocket  a  play-bill,  with  the  name  of  a  popular 
actress  printed  upon  it  in  enormous  letters, 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AEMY.      147 


which  he  exhibited  slyly  to  the  boys  who  oc- 
cupied the  seat  behind  him ;  next  he  pulled 
an  old  end  of  cigar  from  the  same  receptacle, 
and  put  it  in  his  mouth,  shading  it  from  the 
observation  of  ^Ir.  Yv'allace  and  Mrs.  Laurie, 
with  his  hand,  but  leaving  it  in  fail  view  of 
the  classes  near  by,  much  to  their  amusement. 
While  the  school  were  repeating  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  he  was  snapping  little  wet  balls  of 
paper  at  one  and  another  of  the  orderly  boys, 
and  even  went  so  far  to  aim  one  at  Mr.  Wal- 
lace himself.  In  short,  whatever  mischief  he 
could  devise,  Andrew  did  not  hesitate  to  exe- 
cute. When  school  was  dismissed,  without 
waiting  for  the  classes  to  go  out  in  order,  he 
started  for  the  stairs,  and  went  down  at  four 
bounds,  landing  at  the  foot  with  a  shrill 
and  prolonged  whistle,  very  much  like  the 
vv'histle  of  a  steam  engine.  When  the  hall 
was  vacated,  and  no  one  remaining  but  the 
superintendent  and  two  or  three  of  the  teach- 
ers, he  turned  to  Mrs.  Lamie,  and  said, 
"  That  boy  is  utterly  incorrigible  !  I  confess 
I  have  no  hope  of  his  improvement. " 


148  ANDY    HALL, 


"  Xeither  have  I,"  added  Miss  Donaldson, 
whose  class  was  close  by  ]Mrs.  Laurie's  ;  "  he 
is  a  greater  trial  to  me  than  all  my  seven 
boys.  They  would  be  very  attentive  but  for 
him ;  he  is  continually  inciting  them  to  dis- 
order and  rebellion  by  his  outrageous  behav- 
ior. I  wish  you  would  expel  him,  Mr.  Wal- 
lace.  His  influence  in  the  school  is  so  very 
bad." 

"  I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,"  said  Mr. 
Wallace  ;  "  and  yet  it  was  for  just  such  unruly 
spirits  as  he,  that  we  undertook  this  work. 
If  I  could  perceive  the  shadow  of  improve- 
ment in  the  boy,  I  would  be  willing  to  bear 
with  him,  but  certainly  he  grows  worse  and 
worse,  every  Sunday.  What  do  you  think  of 
sending  him  from  the  school,  Mrs.  Laurie?" 

"  That  I  will  not  consent  to  it,  at  least  at 
present,"  replied  the  lady  firmly.  "  I  am  sorry 
that  he  troubles  other  classes,  but  I  cannot 
give  him  up,  so  long  as  I  remember  the  dying 
request  of  his  poor  little  sister,  Roxy.  No, 
Mr.  Wallace,  let  him  stay,  I  beg  of  you." 


THE  ISnSSIOX  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AP3IY.     149 


]\Iany  times  after  this,  when  Andrew's  con- 
duct was  ahnost  unbearably  rude,  his  expul- 
sion from  the  school  was  suggested,  but  Mrs. 
Laurie,  remembering  her  promise,  clung  to 
the  apparently  unthankful  boy,  and  prayed, 
O I  how  fervently,  that  he  might  give  his 
heart  to  Jesus.  Two  or  three  times  she  coax- 
ed him  to  come  to  her  own  home,  and  there 
she  talked  and  prayed  with  him,  and  urged 
him  for  Eoxy's  sake,  if  he  had  no  higher  mo- 
tive, to  try  and  be  a  better  boy.  On  such  oc- 
casions, Andrew  was  quiet,  and  somewhat 
moved  by  her  affectionate  and  earnest  appeals. 
But  whatever  impression  was  made  soon  wore 
off,  and  by  the  next  Sabbath  was,  apparently, 
quite  forgotten.  Still  Mrs.  Laurie  prayed  and 
hoped  on,  believing  that  He  is  faithful  who 
has  promised  to  answer  -prajer,  and  that  in 
his  own  good  time,  He  would  bring  Andrew 
into  the  fold. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

3' HE  year  1858,  will  not  soon  be  forgot- 
fij^  ten  by  those  who  witnessed  the  won- 
^^  derful  work  of  God's  saving  grace  in 
^^^    our  own  and  other  countries,  or  by 

%^  the  thousands,  who  then,  for  the  first 
time,  were  led  to  seek  Jesus.  Earnest  Chris- 
tians, who  had  prayed  and  waited  long  for  an 
outpouring  of  the  Spirit,  now  felt,  that  the 
answer  had  come  ;  and  rejoicing  with  exceed- 
ing great  joy,  they  inquu-ed  with  fresh  zeal, 
''Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  do?" 

In  different  quarters  of  large  towns  and 
cities,  meetings  for  prayer  were  instituted, 
and  thronged  with  anxious  and  penitent  souls  ; 
unusual  solemnity  accompanied  the  preaching 
of  the  word,  and  the  teaching  in  Sabbath 
Schools  was  of  a  more  pointed  and  direct  char- 
acter than  ever  before. 


THE  ]\nSSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AEBIY.      151 

Mr.  Wallace  and  the  band  of  faithful  Chris- 
tians whom  he  had  gathered  around  him, 
prayed  with  increasing  fervor,  that  the  school 
so  dear  to  them,  might  be  visited  by  the  Spirit, 
and  the  dear  children  and  youth  ])e  led  to  see 
and  repent  of  their  sins,  and  come  to  the  Sav- 
iour for  pardon  and  peace.  These  prayers 
were  heard  and  answered  in  great  mercy,  and 
so  many  were  found  inquiring  the  way  of  life, 
that,  for  a  few  weeks,  the  usual  exercises  of 
the  school  were  suspended,  and  the  hour  was 
passed  in  devotional  exercises.  It  was  a 
touching  and  beautiful  sight,  to  see  numbers 
of  the  poor,  ragged,  and  forlorn  boys  and  girls 
who  composed  the  school,  rising  in  their  seats, 
and  with  tearful  faces  and  broken  voices,  ask- 
ing the  prayers  of  their  superintendent  and 
teachers,  and,  as  their  interest  deepened, 
themselves  joining  in  those  supplications,  and 
beseeching  God's  mercy.  In  addition  to  these 
Sunday  morning  exercises,  Mr.  Wallace  held 
a  childrens'  prayer  and  inquiry  meeting  every 
Sunday  and  Wednesday  evening,  in  the  same 


152  AXDY   HALL, 


place.  At  the  first  meeting  only  five  were 
present,  but  from  that  time  the  room  was 
filled,  and  not  only  with  the  children.  Anx- 
ious for  themselves,  with  the  generous  impulse 
of  youth,  they  brought  with  them  their  older 
brothers  and  sisters,  and,  in  some  instances, 
their  parents,  poor,  disheartened,  broken- 
down  outcasts,  whose  fiices  told  the  sad  story 
of  sorrow,  sin,  and  shame,  that  they,  too, 
might  hear  the  good  news  of  salvation  by 
Christ.  Several  of  these  meetings  had  been 
held,  and,  while  almost  ever}^  member  of  Mrs. 
Laurie's  class  had  attended  them,  and  some 
were  rejoicmg  in  the  sense  of  sins  forgiven, 
Andrew  Hall,  apparently  harder  and  more 
stubborn  than  ever,  utterly  refused  to  be 
present.  In  vain  his  faithful  teacher  urged 
upon  him  his  dut}^  and  entreated  him  to  lis- 
ten to  the  voice,  that  so  kmdly  invited  him  to 
come  to  Jesus  for  pardon  and  rest ;  every 
word  she  uttered  only  seemed  to  increase  the 
hardness  and  opposition  of  his  heaii;.  Out  of 
the  Sunday  School,  which  he  never  failed  to 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AE3IY.     153 

attend,  he  plunged  deeper  and  deeper  in  sin, 
choosing  for  his  companions  those  who,  like 
himself,  ridiculed  and  scoffed  at  the  prayers 
and  exhortations  of  Christians. 

The  friends,  who  had  known  and  cared  for 
little  Roxy,  and  for  her  sake  felt  interested  in 
this  erring  boy,  watched  with  great  pain  his 
downward  course,  and  earnestly  prayed,  that 
he  might  yet  be  reclaimed. 

"  Are  you  not  discouraged?  "  Mrs.  Kent  in- 
quired of  her  sister,  Mrs.  Laurie.  ''It  cer- 
tainly seems  an  almost  hopeless  case.  I  con- 
fess, that  my  faith  in  regard  to  him  is  very 
weak." 

"Mine  is  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Laurie.  "I  am 
not  discouraged,  neither  will  I  be,  so  long  as 
I  remember,  that  God  has  promised  to  hear 
and  answer  the  prayers  of  his  children.  Be- 
sides, there  are  two  very  hopeful  facts,  for 
which  I  feel  very  thankful. 

"What  are  they?"  asked  Mrs.  Kent. 

"  You  recollect  the  promises,  which  he  made 
to  Koxy,  Vv'hen  she  ay  as  dying?    He  has  kept 


154  ANDY    HALL, 


them  sacred ;  and  surely  there  is  no  reason  to 
despair  of  his  salvation,  while  he  regularly 
and  constant!}^  attends  the  Sunday  School, 
and  never  tastes  intoxicating  drinks." 

"But  how  can  you  know  that  he  does  not, 
Jenny  ?  " 

''  I  have  it  from  boys  who  know  him  well. 
He  has  often  been  tempted,  but  neither  ridi- 
cule, persuasion,  nor  threats,  have  as  yet 
moved  him.  O,  if  he  were  a  Christian,  what 
a  noble,  steadfast  Christian  he  would  malvc  ! 
He  has  energy,  courage,  and  strength  of  will ; 
but  there  seems  a  great  want  of  feeling.  I 
have  frequently  noticed  him,  when  almost 
every  member  of  the  school  was  in  tears,  sit- 
tino:  with  his  head  bowed,  his  Ions:  hair  fall- 
ing  over  his  face,  as  unmoved  as  a  rock,  and 
apparently  dead  to  the  solemn  words  that  were 
spoken  by  Mr.  Wallace  and  others.  I  confess, 
I  do  not  understand  the  boy,  but  I  am  not 
discouraged,  and  I  will  never  give  up!^' 

It  was  true  that  Mrs.  Laurie  did  not  quite 
understand  Andrew's  character  and  feeliu2:s. 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  ARJ^IY.     155 


She  was  mistaken  in  supposing  that  he  was 
unmoved.  He  was  thoroughly  miserable. 
Conscience,  that  terrible  but  faithful  monitor, 
long  silenced,  but  not  entirely  banished,  now 
spoke  to  his  heart  in  thunder  tones.  It  ac- 
cused him  of  sins  committed  against  a  holy 
and  just  God  ;  it  urged  him  to  "flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come,"  and  he  was  fio-htino'  asfainst 
it  with  all  the  power  of  his  sinful  nature.  The 
Spirit  whispered,  "  Come  to  Jesus."  Mr. 
Wallace,  with  friendly  regard,  repeated  the 
blessed  invitation  ;  Mrs.  Laurie  continued  to 
urge  upon  him  the  danger  of  delay,  but  still 
he  remained  impenitent  and  cold. 

One  Sunday  evening,  driv^en  almost  to  de- 
spair by  the  conflicting  emotions,  that  raged 
in  his  breast,  Andi-ew  found  himself  alone,  at 
the  door  of  the  mission  school  room,  a  few 
miuutes  after  the  prayer-meeting  had  begun. 
He  heard  the  voice  of  Mr.  Wallace  addressing 
those  present  in  plain,  direct  language,  on  the 
importance  of  forsaking  sin,  and  turning  to 
Christ ;  but  the  words  failed  to  reach  him,  and 


156  AXDT    HALL, 


with  a  half-suppressed  groan  he  turned  to  go 
away,  v/hen  the  notes  of  a  sweet  hymn  fell 
upon  his  ear.  The  melody  was  so  beautiful, 
that  he  paused  involuntarily  to  listen,  and 
drew  nearer  the  stairs. 

"Jesus  stands,  0!  how  amazing, 

Stands  and  knocks  at  every  door; 
In  his  hands  ten  tliousand  blessings, 

Proffer'd  to  the  wretched  poor. 
Sinner,  can  you  hate  the  Saviour  ? 

Can  you  thrust  him  from  your  arms  ? 
Once  he  died  for  your  behavior, 

Now  he  calls  you  to  his  arms." 

These  were  the  words,  to  which  Andrew 
listened,  and  which  touched  his  heart.  Softly 
he  crept  up  stairs,  and  took  a  seat  very  near 
the  entrance,  hiding  his  face  in  his  old  cap, 
so  that  none  misfht  recos^nize  him.  The  room 
was  filled,  and  many  even  of  the  youngest 
children  were  in  tears.  The  hymn  was  sung 
to  the  end,  and  then,  as  an  invitation  was 
given  for  any,  who  felt  disposed,  to  take 
part  in  the  meeting,  to  do  so  freely,  a  young 
lad  rose  in  his  seat,  and  in  a  few  broken  words 
said,  that  he  believed  Jesus  had  taken  his  sins 


THE  JiHSSIOX  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AEMY.      157 

away,  and  would  help  him  to  serve  God,  but 
he  wanted  Christians  to  pray  for  him,  that  he 
might  not  be  discouraged.  This  was  followed 
by  a  brief,  but  very  earnest  prayer,  by  one  of 
the  teachers,  and  then  Mr.  Wallace  requested 
all  those  who  felt  anxious,  on  account  of  sin, 
and  who  wished  to  serve  the  Lord,  to  rise. 
^In  a  moment  twenty  persons,  some  of  them 
children,  and  some  grey-haired  men  and  wo- 
men, were  on  their  feet,  their  tearful  faces 
expressing  the  anxiety  they  felt.  How  An- 
drew longed  to  be  among  them  !  but  fear  of 
ridicule  from  his  old  companions  kept  him 
back,  and  he  sat  motionless,  while  special 
prayer  was  offered  for  them,  that  they  might 
be  led  to  give  themselves  up  to  the  Saviour. 
At  its  close,  a  sweet  female  voice  struck  up 
the  verse  : 

"  Come  all  ye  souls  by  sin  oppressed. 
Ye  restless  wand'rers  after  rest. 
Ye  poor,  and  maim'd,  and  halt  and  blind, 
In  Christ  a  hearty  welcome  find." 

What  an  invitation  was  this  to  poor  An- 


158  AXDY   IL^LL, 


drew,  whose  heart  was  so  very,  very  heavy 
with  its  burden  of  sin  !  Had  not  he  held  out 
in  his  stubborn  rebellion  against  God  long 
enough  I  Oh,  3'es,  he  thought  with  a  groan, 
so  long,  thar  the  invitation  was  not,  could  not 
be  for  him.  It  was  too  late  !  Just  as  the 
last  notes  of  the  hymn  died  away,  a  little  boy 
knelt,  an^  in  his  feeble  accents  prayed,  ^'  Oh^ 
Jesus,  please  to  help  me  to  find  you.  I  don't 
want  to  swear,  or  tell  lies  any  more  ;  I  want 
to  be  good,  so  that  you  will  love  me,  dear 
Jesus.  I  want  to  ask  you  to  please  to  make 
all  the  scholars  that  go  to  our  mission-school 
good;  and  oh,  please  to  make  Andrew  Hall 
want  to  come  to  the  prayer-meeting,  and  help 
me  to  forgive  him  for  tiring  stones  at  my  kit- 
ten ;  and  help  my  father  that  drinks,  to  be 
good,  and  to  come  here  so  that  he  may  love 
God.     Amen." 

In  the  moment  of  silence  that  ensued,  An- 
drew's heart  beat  so  loud  and  fast,  that  he  was 
sure  every  one  in  the  room  heard  it,  and  he 
trembled  from  head  to  foot.     It  was  a  critical 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  APv:MY.     159 


moment  with  the  poor  boy,  whose  sense  of 
guilt  was  growing  deeper  every  instant,  but 
whose  fear  of  ridicule  was  so  strong,  that  it 
seemed  utterly  impossible  for  him  to  express 
the  concern  he  felt.  God,  however,  was 
watching  over  him,  and  patiently  awaiting  his 
decision.  Oh,  how  great  is  that  mercy  which 
waits  for  the  repentance  of  the  sinner,  instead 
of  withdrawing  the  ofler  of  pardon  so  long 
slighted ! 

The  meeting  was  about  to  be  closed  ;  Mr. 
Wallace  had  given  out  for  the  last  hymn  the 
words  : 

"  Come,  trembling  sinner,  in  whose  breast 

A  thousand  thoughts  revolve. 
Come  with  your  doubts  and  fears  oppressed 

Aud  make  this  last  resolve — 
*  I'll  go  to  Jesus,  tho'  my  sins 

Like  mountains  round  me  close; 
I  know  his  gates — I'll  enter  in 

Whatever  may  oppose.'  " 

In  the  moment  of  silence  which  followed 
the  reading  of  the  hymn,  Andrew  suddenl}^ 
arose,  and  with  his  rough  face  still  half  hid 
in  his  cap,  cried  out  in  an  agony  of  tears ; 


160  AXDY    HALL. 


"Oh!  pray  for  me  —  pra}^  for  me,  before 
you  sing ! " 

The  chokmg  utterance,  the  earnest  request 
from  a  boy,  well  known  to  the,  most  of  those 
present  as  one  of  the  most  profane  and  Avicked 
lads  in  the  neighborhood,  excited  much  feel- 
ing, and  the  meeting  was  prolonged  while 
several  prayers  were  offered  in  his  behalf.  It 
was  a  very  solemn  and  impressive  occasion, 
and  as  Mrs.  Laurie  walked  home,  tears  of  joy 
filled  her  eyes,  and  from  her  heart  went  up  an 
offering  of  thanksgiving  and  praise  to  Him, 
who  had  brought  this  young  prodigal  to  feel 
his  need  of  pardon,  and  to  seek  his  Father's 
house. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

HE  conflict  iu  Andrew's  heart  was 
QjjU'  soon  over.  In  a  remarkable  manner 
it  was  true  to  him,  that  "  old  things 
^ly^  were  passed  away,  and  all  things  be- 
^^  came  new."  He  had  gone  to  Christ  in 
humble  faith,  cast  his  burden  of  guilt 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  there  found  peace, 
and  not  only  peace,  but  joy.  The  growth  ot 
his  Christian  character  was  so  marked  and 
rapid  as  to  excite  surprise  in  the  minds  of 
those  who  had  long  watched  him  Avith  inter- 
est. It  seemed  as  if  God  had  chosen  this  boy, 
so  rude,  so  rough,  so  ignorant,  as  a  wonderful 
monument  of  grace,  and  iustrument  of  good, 
and  was  leading  him  in  a  special  manner 
through  green  pastures,  and  beside  stifl 
waters. 

161 


162  AlsDY   HALL, 


Mrs.  Laurie  was  not  mistaken  when  she 
eaicl,  Andrew  would  make  a  noble,  steadfast 
Christian,  if  converted ;  and  the  trials  which 
he  was  forced  to  encounter  only  contributed 
to  that  result.  Ilis  position  was,  as  we  know, 
of  a  most  trying  character.  There  was  noth- 
ing attractive,  but  eveiy thing  repulsive  about 
his  miserable  home.  His  father,  sunk  so  low 
in  vice  and  debauchery  of  all  kinds,  seemed 
utterly  past  hope,  and  his  mother,  Avho,  while 
Roxy  lived,  had,  for  her  sake,  refrained  from 
joining  in  his  drunken  orgies,  now  that  re- 
straint was  removed,  sought  forgetfulness  of 
her  sorrows  and  discouragement  in  the  poison 
cup.  Together,  they  made  their  home  a 
dwelling  fit  only  for  fiends,  and  Andrew,  ani- 
mated by  new  purposes  and  desires,  turned 
from  it  with  loathing.  His  old  companions 
of  the  street,  met  him  with  all  manner  of  ridi- 
cule and  profane  expressions  of  contempt,  but 
they  soon  found  that  the  lad  who  had  hitherto 
been  keenly  sensitive  to  their  scorn,  vras  so 
changed  that  he  not  onl}'  bore  it  in  silence,  but 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AI13IY.     163 


maintained  a  bright,  sunny  countenance,  with- 
out a  flush  of  resentment  or  anger,  even  under 
their  rudest  and  coarsest  insults.  That  he 
might  do  something  to  lead  them,  and  his  pa- 
rents to  seek  the  happiness  which  he  had 
found,  was  the  cherished  desire  of  Andrew's 
heart ;  and  his  daily  prayer  went  up  to  God 
for  wisdom  and  strensrth,  to  enable  him  to 
choose  the  right  method,  and  adopt  it,  how- 
ever trying  it  might  be.  Such  prayers  God 
delights  to  answer,  for  he  has  promised,  "K 
any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God, 
that  giveth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraid- 
eth  not;  and  it  shall  he  given  him.^^ 

In  3Jr.  AVallace  and  ^Nlrs.  Laurie,  Andrew 
found  safe  advisers  and  firm  friends.  Many 
were  the  conversations  he  had  with  them,  and 
man}^  were  the  praj'ers  they  offered  with,  and 
for  him,  at  the  outset  of  his  Christian  life,  and 
to  their  influence  under  God,  he  owed  much, 
both  spiritually  and  temporally. 

Soon  after  his  conversion,  Mr.  Wallace  gave 
Andrew  a  place  in  his  store,   as  errand-boy. 


164  ANDY    HALL, 


and,  as  the  home  of  his  parents  was  unsuita- 
ble for  him,  found  cheap  but  comfortable  hjdg- 
iugs  and  board  for  him  in  the  family  of  a  poor 
widow. 

Here,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  the  hoy 
learned  the  value  and  blessing  of  a  Christian 
home.  Mrs.  Bayley  was  deeply  and  sincerely 
pious  ;  her  religion  was  not  of  the  kind  which 
is  brought  out  on  Sunday,  and  laid  away  for 
the  remainder  of  the  week,  but  it  was  the 
pervading  principle  of  her  life  ;  it  entered  into 
and  sanctified  the  homely  labors  of  each  d;iy, 
and  it  enabled  her  to  meet  the  sorrows  and 
privations  of  life  with  cheerful  content.  Her 
husband  and  two  children  had  been  snatched 
from  her  side,  almost  at  a  single  stroke,  but 
she  remembered,  that  ''  whom  the  Lord  loveth 
he  chasteneth,"  and  though  her  heart  was 
bleeding,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and 
murmured,  "Thy  will,  O  God,  not  mine,  be 
done."  Left  thus  to  struggle  alone  with  pov- 
erty, and  with  two  little  girls  to  support,  Mrs. 
Bajiey's  faith  failed  nut.      She  was  a  member 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  ARMY.      105 


of  the  same  church  with  ^Irs.  Kent,  and  the 
ladies  of  the  parish  furnished  her  with  plain 
sewing,  so  that  by  patient  industry  she  had 
been  enabled  to  keep  her  children,  Alice  and 
Mary,  with  her,  in  the  jDleasant  little  cottage, 
where  all  the  years  of  her  married  life  had 
been  passed.  It  was  to  this  home  that  An- 
drew Hall  was  admitted ;  and  under  the  daily 
influence  of  Mrs.  Bayley,  his  rude  manners 
softened,  and  his  air  of  awkward  shjTiess 
gave  place  to  one  of  quiet  dignity  and  self- 
possession. 

Not  far  from  Mrs.  Bay  ley's  cottage,  there 
lived  a  decrepid  old  colored  woman,  known 
all  over  the  neighborhood,  as  "  Aunt  Becky." 
She  was  supported  almost  wholly  by  private 
charities,  having  but  a  very  small  sum  of 
money  saved  from  the  earnings  of  former 
jeavs ;  but,  although  very  poor  in  the  riches 
of  this  world,  aunt  Becky  looked  forward  to  a 
briofht  crown  and  a  rich  inheritance  in  heaven. 
On  this  inheritance  her  heart  was  fixed,  and 
she  longed  for  the  time  to  come,  when  she 


166  ANDY    HALL, 


would  be  released  from  her  feeble  body,  and 
permitted  to  take  possession  of  it. 

Andrew  bad  often  beard  ]\Irs.  Bayley  and 
the  children  speak  of  aunt  Becky,  but  several 
weeks  passed  before  he  saw  her,  and  then 
the  meeting  seemed  almost  by  chance,  so 
slight  were  the  circumstances  which  led  to  it, 
and  yet  it  was  the  means  of  much  good  to  the 
young  disciple. 

It  was  a  stormy  October  morning,  too  stormy 
for  the  little  girls  to  venture  out,  and  ]Mrs. 
Bayley  had  a  plate  of  griddle-cakes  to  send 
from  her  own  breakfast  table,  to  aunt  Becky. 
Andrew  was  just  ready  for  his  walk  to  the 
store,  and  offered  to  take  them  along  with 
him. 

"  It  is  out  of  your  way,"  said  Mrs.  Bayley, 
"  and  I  am  sorr}^  to  trouble  3'ou  ;  but  I  cannot 
help  fgaring  that  the  poor  thing  is  without  a 
breakfast  this  morning,  so  I  will  accept  your 
offer,  and  be  much  obliged.  Open  the  outer 
door,  and  go  right  in,  Andrew,  for  it  is  very 
hard  for  her  to  walk  about  the  house." 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARMY.      167 


Thus  directed,  Andrew  went  on  his  way. 

Aunt  Becky's  little  cottage  had  but  two  tiny 
rooms  ;  it  was  a  queer  bit  of  a  place,  with  a 
low  porch  over  the  front  door,  but  it  looked 
clean  and  tidy,  and  there  was  a  gi-een  cambric 
curtain  at  the  window.  Andrew  went  in  soft- 
ly, and  paused  a  moment  in  the  entry  to  shake 
the  rain  from  his  coat ;  in  this  pause,  the 
sound  of  an  aged  voice  fell  upon  his  ear. 
Aunt  Becky  was  praying.  He  heard  only 
these  few  simple  words  : 

"  If  'tis  best,  Father,  send  me  my  brealvfast, 
and  keep  this  poor  old  body  'live  ;  but  if  you 
be  ready  for  Becky  to  go  up  there  where  Je- 
sus is,  I'se  ready  and  glad  for ;  "  and  here  the 
voice  of  prayer  was  changed  for  that  of  song : 

"  I  long  to  behold  him  arrayed 

With  glory  and  light  from  above; 
The  King  in  his  beauty  displayed, 
His  beauty  of  holiest  love." 

Andrew  would  gladl}^  have  waited  to  hear 
the  hymn  sang  through,  broken  as  was  aunt 
Becky's  voice  ;  but  he  remembered  his  duty  to 


168  AXDY    HALL, 


Mr.  Wallace,  aud  rapping  gently,  pushed  open 
the  kitchen  door,  aud  walked  in. 

Aunt  Becky  sat  iu  her  straw-seated  chair, 
beside  a  small  round  table.  It  was  covered 
with  a  white  napkin  ;  a  plate,  knife  and  fork, 
were  laid  upon  it,  and  beside  them  stood  a 
cup  of  water  ;  all  the  preparations  were  made 
for  breakfast,  that  aunt  Becky  was  able  to 
make,  and  now  she  sat  waiting  for  it.  She 
glanced  around  and  smiled  as  Andrew  drew 
near  the  table,  and  handed  her  the  plate  of 
smoking  griddle-cakes. 

"  I  never  see  you  'fore,"  she  said,  "but  I'm 
glad  to  see  any  body  that  the  Lord  sends." 

"  ^Irs.  Bayley  asked  me  to  come  and  bring 
these  cakes  to  you,"  said  Andrew. 

"  Laws,  yes  I  "  returned  aunt  Becky,  "  but 
doesn't  you  know,  child,  that  the  Lord's  back 
of  her,  and  he  says  to  her  this  morning,  ^  You 
send  aunt  Becky  her  breakfast  to-day,'  and  so 
she  sent  it." 

"Yes,  that's  it,"  said  Andrew ;  "she  said 
she  felt  as  if  you  hadn't  any ;  but  it  seems 
strange  to  me." 


THE  MISSION  SCIIOLAn  IX  THE  ARMY.      169 


"  Nothing  strange  'bout  it,  child,"  and  aunt 
Becky  fixed  her  still  bright  eyes  upon   his 
face.     "Don't  you  see  how  'tis.     I'm  one  of 
the  Lord's  chil'en,  and  he  has  kept  me  here, 
in  this   world,  till  I'm  too   old  and  feeble  to 
work  ;  that's  all  right,   else  he  never'd  a  done 
it ;  but  you  see's  long  as  I  stay  here,  I've  got 
to  have  bread  to  eat,  an'  if  I  can't  buy  it,  or 
make  it,  why  he's  goin'  to  send  it  to  me  him- 
self, till  he's  ready  for  me  up  there .    So  where's 
the   odds,  if  he  sends   it  right  down  out  of 
heaven  's  he  did  to  the  chil'en  of  Israel,  or  by 
a  raven  's  he  did  to  good  ole  'Lijah,  or  he  puts 
it  into  the  heart  of  some  good  woman  to  bring 
or  send  it.     I'm  just  as  sure  that  I'll  be  fed 
as  I'm  that  I  should  starve  if  I  hadn't  nothin' 
t'  eat,  and  so  I  always  set  my  table  like  this, 
and  wait  till  the  food  comes." 

"I   wonder  if  I  will  ever  have  faith  like 
that,"  said  Andrew,  involuntarily. 

"Have  3-0U  got    any  faith  at  all?"  asked 
aunt  Becky. 

"  I  think  so  ;  I  hope  so." 


170 


AXDY    HALL, 


"  Well,  it  wont  grow  into  a  big  tree  in  a 
day ;  it  is  like  a  little  mustard  seed  at  first, 
and  it  gets  stronger  and  bigger  every  hour, 
till  by-'n'-by  it  spreads  out  its  branches,  and 
its  roots  strikes  down  deeper  'n'  deeper  iuto 
the  earth,  and  no  matter  how  big  a  tempest 
comes,  it  can't  move  it  a  hair." 

"  I  must  go  this  minute,  aunt  Beck}',"  inter- 
rupted Andrew,  as  the  clock  struck  eight*  "I 
ought  to  have  been  at  the  store  now,  but  I'm 
coming  to  see  you  again,  very  soon  ;  may  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indee_d,"  said  aunt  Becky,  heartily, 
"  come  just  when  ^^ou  can." 

In  accordance  with  his  promise,  and  the  old 
woman's  permission,  Andrew  called  that  very 
evening,  and  found  aunt  Becky  and  another 
aged  colored  woman  holding  a  pra^-er-meet- 
ing.  He  sat  down  by  the  fire,  and  listened 
with  streaming  eyes,  to  the  warm  and  child- 
like prayers  and  conversation  of  these  two 
saints,  who  were  standing,  as  it  were,  on  the 
very  "  verge  of  Jordan,"  and  longing  to  pass 
over.    When  their  hour  of  devotion  vv  as  about 


THE  :\nssiox  scholap.  ix  the  APaiY.    171 


to  close,  he,  too,  knelt,  uumvitecl,  and  joined 
his  petitions  with  theirs. 

"  How  good  that  seems,"  cried  aunt  Becky, 
wiping  her  eyes  ;  "  it's  more  like  a  real  prayer- 
meetin'  to  hear  three  a  prayin'  together.  Eosy 
'n'  I,"  she  continued,  "  have  had  our  little 
meetin'  every  Tuesday  night,  for  's  many  's 
twenty-five  years.  I  al'ays  enjoy  'em,  but 
since  I've  been  too  feeble  to  go  out,  they've 
been  mor'n  my  meat  'n'  drink  to  me.  I  used 
to  love  my  meetin'  'bove  every  thing,  and  it's 
the  greatest  cross  I  have,  to  be  obliged  to 
stay  away ;  but  I  don't  mean  to  complain. 
Praise  the  Lord  !  I'll  soon  be  up  there,  where 
'tis  blessed  meetin'  all  the  time,  an'  the  Lord 
himself  is  the  preacher." 

"May  I  come 'every  Tuesday  evening?" 
Andrew  asked,  as  he  rose  to  go. 

"  O,  yes,  indeed,  if  you  will,"  said  aunt 
Becky  and  Eosy  in  a  breath,  an'  "perhaps  you'll 
read  a  chapter  in  the  Good  Book,"  added 
Rosy,  "for  we  are  ignorant  old  women,  and 
slow  at  the  reading,  and  it  would  be  nice  to 


172  AXDY    HALL, 


have  a  whole  chapter  instead  of  one  little 
verse,  though  to  be  sure  one  verse  is  enough 
to  feed  us  well,  aunt  Becky,  aVt  it?" 

"  Yes,"  said  aunt  Becky,  smiling,"  but  w^e'U 
have  a  feast,  when  we  can  get  it,  and  thank 
the  Lord  for  it." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  Andrew's  pub- 
lic labors  for  God.  Aunt  Becky  and  Eosy  in- 
vited some  of  the  neighbors  to  come  in,  and 
hear  a  chapter  read,  on  the  following  Tuesday, 
and  when  the  hour  came,  the  kitchen  was 
crowded.  From  week  to  week,  the  interest 
increased ;  both  of  aunt  Becky's  rooms  and 
the  entry  were  tilled,  and  more  than  one  soul 
was  led  to  seek  Jesus.  It  was  an  arduous 
duty  for  one  so  young  as  Andrew,  to  perform, 
and  he  deepty  felt  his  responsibility,  but  God 
helped  him,  and  he  soon  found,  by  his  own 
exijerience,  that  "he  that  watereth,  shall  be 
watered  also  himself." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

XDREWS  father,  ''Tipsy  Bill,"  was 
^=n^yy  dying  the  dreadful  death  of  the  druiik- 
f^lJ^Sivd.  His  wife  stood  beside  the  pallet 
of  straw,  on  which  he  lay,  terrified  and 
trembling ;  Andrew,  summoned  from 
his  work,  stood  near  her,  while  three  strong 
men  held  the  sl^'uggling  figure,  and  all  anx- 
iously waited  until  God  should  see  fit  to  free 
the  poor  soul,  and  release  them  from  the  sight 
and  sound  of  such  horror.  Oh,  it  was  fear- 
ful to  hear  the  oaths  and  imprecations,  that 
fell  from  those  swollen  and  purple  lips,  and 
the  raving  that  followed  the  l^rief  moments  of 
quiet,  when,  exhausted  by  his  struggles,  he 
would  fall  back  upon  his  pillow.  All  manner 
of  terrible  visions  haunted  the  drunkard's 
brain  ;  he  fancied  that  serpents  were  writhing 

173 


174  ANDY    HALL, 

and  coiling  around  his  anus  and  throat ;  that 
demons  Avere  perched  upon  his  limbs,  and 
grinning  in  his  face  ;  that  hell  was  opening  to 
receive  him,  and  that  unquenchable  fire  was 
burning  and  flaming  about  him.  It  was  ap- 
palling to  listen  to  his  shrieks  of  agony,  as  he 
struggled  to  free  himself  froin  the  grasp  of 
those  who  held  him  ;  even  the  men,  hard  and 
rough  as  they  vrere,  -with  faces  that  showed 
too  plainly,  that  they  were  aiDproaching  a  like 
fate,  even  they  trembled  and  turned  pale,  and 
wished  themselves  away  from  a  scene,  which 
they  could  never  forget. 

"Mother,  don't  stay  here,"  said  Andrew,  as 
a  paroxysm  of  great  violence  shook  the  frame 
of  the  dying  man,  and  he  threw  himself  from 
the  bed.  "  Don't  stay  here,  you  can't  help 
father.     Wont  you  go  down  stairs  ?  " 

"Xo,"  said  Mrs.  Hall,  shaking  her  head, 
and  never  for  a  moment  withdrawing  her  eyes 
from  her  husband's  face.  "  I  shall  stay  here. 
Andrew,  I'm  glad  Eoxy  didn't  live  to  see  this, 
and  to  know  that  I'm  as  bad  as  he  !  " 


THE  MISSION  >SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AE3IY.      175 

"  Oh  !  mother,"  and  Andrev/  took  her  thin 
hcind  in  his,  and  held  it  to  his  wet  eyes,  "  Oh, 
mother,  it  isn't  too  late  for  you  to  give  up 
drinking  ;  you  mustn't  come  to  this." 

^'  Too  late  !  too  late  !  too  late  !  "  shrieked 
the  dying  man,  flinging  up  his  arms  in  wild 
despair.  "  Yes,  —  too  late  !  too  late  !  too  late  ! 
Hell's  all  ready,  Jud}' !  Ave'il  burn  there  to- 
gether, old  woman !  Take  ofi"  the  snakes, 
Jim  !  don't  you  see  'em  all  over  my  neck  and 
hands.  Help!  help!  help!  Oh!  too  late! 
too  late  !  too  late  !  "  and  with  this  cry  repeated 
over  and  over  again,  poor  Bill  drew  his  last 
breath ;  and  his  spirit  went  "  to  his  own 
place." 

Through  the  Idndness  of  ]Mr.  Wallace,  An- 
drew was  enabled  to  give  his  father  a  decent 
♦  burial,  but  for  a  time,  his  cheerfulness  was 
gone.  Of  course  he  could  feel  no  grief  for 
the  death  of  such  a  parent,  but  the  recollection 
of  that  last  scene  of  despair  and  terror,  haunt- 
ed him  by  day  and  by  night.  Turn  which- 
ever way  he  would,  the  haggard  face  and  glar- 


176  ANDY   HALL, 

ing  eyes  followed  Lim,  aud  the  sound  of  those 
shrieks  was  iu  his  ear.  Added  to  this,  was 
anxiety  for  his  mother.  He  felt,  that  it  was  now 
his  duty  to  find  a  home  for  her  and  coutrihute 
to  her  support,  but  it  was  a  great  trial  to  him 
to  think  of  giving  up  his  pleasant  lodgings  at 
Mrs.  Bay  ley's,  and  her  Christian  counsel,  tor 
such  a  home  as  his  mother  would  make,  and 
for  her  companionship.  A  week  passed  away, 
and  some  decision  must  be  made.  Andrew 
had  not  neglected  to  carry  the  case  to  his 
Father  in  heaven,  but  had  sought  for  direction 
from  him  many  times  daily,  and  waited,  hop- 
ing the  way  would  be  made  plain  to  him. 

He  had  taken  his  candle  and  was  going  to 
his  room,  one  evening,  when  Mrs.  Bay  ley 
stopped  him,  and  said  in  her  kind  way, 

"  Andrew,  you  look  troubled  to-night. 
What  is  the  matter?" 

"  I  am  troubled,''  he  replied,  setting  down 
the  lamp,  and  looking  thoughtfully  in  the  fire. 
"  I  don't  know  Avhat  I  ought  to  do  about 
mother." 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AEMY.     177 


"I  have  beeu  making  a  plan,"  said  Mrs. 
Bayley.  "  I  don't  know  what  you  will  think 
of  it,  but  I  will  tell  you  what  it  isj  and  you 
can  do  as  you  like  about  adopting  it.  You 
know,"  she  continued,  seriously,  "that  it  is 
very  hard  to  break  away  from  a  bad  habit, 
especially  that  which  your  mother  has  incur- 
red ;  but  you  tell  me  she  is  anxious  to  free 
herself  from  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Andrew,  "  she  says  she  will  try 
never  to  drink  again,  but  there  are  so  many  to 
tempt  her,  and  so  few  to  encourage,  that  I  am 
afraid  she  will  not  keep  her  resolution.  Oh, 
I  wish  she  might !  " 

"  I  have  a  small  attic  chamber;  Andrew," 
said  Mrs,  Bayley,  "  it  is  not  very  nicely  fur- 
nished off,  but  there  are  two  pleasant  windows 
in  it.  My  plan  is,  for  your  mother  to  come 
and  take  possession  of  it." 

"Oh,  how  good  you  are,"  cried  Andrew, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "how  kind  to  think  of 
such  a  thing.  But,"  he  added  sorrowfully, 
"  if  she  should  not  keep  her  word,  I — " 


178  ANDY   IIALL, 

"Dou't  briiig  up  olijectious,"  inteiTupted 
Mrs.  Bayley,  smiliug.  "Please  God,  she 
will  keep  her  word.  Don't  you  see,  Andrew, 
that  she  will  have  no  temptation  from  with- 
out, while  she  is  here  ?  You  and  I  must  do  all 
we  can,  to  help  and  encourage  her.  I  will  ha 
her  friend  ;  you  must  be  her  dutiful  and  affec- 
tionate son.  We  must  let  her  see  that  we 
love  her,  my  dear  boy,  and  I  have  faith  to 
believe,  that  she  will  yet  become  a  worthy  and 
good  wonaan." 

"  I  pray  God,  she  may,"  said  Andrew  fer- 
vently. 

"There  is  fmniture  enough  in  the  attic," 
said  ]\lrs.  Bayley,  "  and  I  can  supply  her  with 
sewing ;  she  will  help  me  about  my  hout^e- 
work,  and  after  awhile  take  care  of  her  boy's 
clothing.  She  will  be  much  happier  to  be 
constantly  employed.  Oh,  I  think  we  will 
get  along  nicely  together,  Andrew,  and  how 
happy  we  shall  be,  if  she  is  reclaimed,  to  think 
that,  under  God,  we  were  the  means  of  it." 

"  i  am  the  happiest  boy    in   the   world,  I 


THE  anSSIOX  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  xin^.IY.     179 

really  believe,"  said  Andrew,  when  after  an 
hour's  conversation,  he  again  took  his  lamp  to 
retire.  "  My  troubles  have  vanished  for  the 
present,  at  least, — and  I  feel  light  enough  to 
fly  !  I  hope  I  will  be  able  sometime,  to  prove 
how  grateful  I  am  to  you." 

The  following  evening  found  Mrs.  Hall 
safely  housed  under  Mrs.  Ba^dey's  roof,  and 
in  full  possession  of  the  little  chamber,  which 
was  a  palace,  in  comparison  with  the  gaiTet 
that  had  been  her  home  for  the  few  years  past. 
Andrew  watched  her  ^vith  beaming  eyes,  as 
she  examined  the  simple  furniture,  with  almost 
childish  delight. 

"  How  nice  it  is,"  she  said,  turning  to  him 
with  something  like  a  smile  on  her  wan  fiice, 
"  how  nice  it  is  !  Why  here's  a  bed  and  pil- 
low, and  a  table  and  two  chairs,  and  a  wash- 
stand,  and  looking-glass.  It  seems  like  old 
times,  Andrew,  when  you  was  a  baby.  I  had 
such  things  then,  before  Bill  took  to  drinking, 
and  I  thought  it  was  the  pleasantest  world, 
and  nothino'  to  trouble  one.     But,  oh,"  she 


180  ANDY  H.\LL, 


added,  with  a  sigh,  "hovv  soou  it  all  changed, 
uiid  the  troubles  came  one  after  aiK^thcr,  .so 
fast  that  they  kept  my  heart  breaking  all  the 
time." 

"  Poor  mother  !  "  said  Andrew,  laying  his 
hand  on  her  shoukler,  "  and  I  might  have  ]>ecn 
a  comfort  to  you  all  those  years,  but  I  was 
not !  I  am  very  sorry  when  I  think  how 
w^^icked  I  was,  and  how  unkind  to  you  and 
Eoxy,  who  had  to  suffer  so  much.  I  think 
God  has  forgiven  me, — will  you  forgive  me, 
too,  mother,  and  I  will  try  to  be  a  good  son 
to  you  as  long  as  I  live  ?  " 

Words  of  tenderness  and  love  were  so  new 
to  poor  Mrs.  Hall,  that  they  seemed  almost 
like  an  unknown  language ;  but  the  look  of 
affection  that  accompanied  them  made  them 
intelligible,  and  she  threw  her  arms  around 
the  neck  of  her  boy  and  gave  him  the  first 
mother's  kiss  that  he  had  ever  known. 

"  Vrhat  makes  3^ou  seem  so  different, 
Andy  ?  "  she  asked  him ,  as  they  stood  by  the 
wiiiduvr,  a  little   later,   looking  out   upon  the 


THE  MISSIOX  SCnOLAK'lX  TIIE  AUZIY.     181 


clear  wintry  sky.  ''You  used  to  be  rough 
aud  cross,  but  now  you  are  gentle  and  pleas- 
ant ;  you  aren't'  like  the  same  boy — though 
Eoxy  said  you  was  always  good  to  her." 

"  Dear  little  Eoxy  ! ''  said  Andrew  softly. 
"If  she  had  lived,  how  hard  I'd  have  worked 
for  her — but  she's  happy  now.  I'll  tell  you, 
mother,  what  makes  me  different  from  what  I 
was,"  he  went  on  dashing  the  tears  from  his 
face,  "I'm  trying  to  follow  Jesus  Christ.  I 
used  to  love  to  do  Avrons^.  I  thouo^ht  it  was 
manlj'to  drink,  and  swear,  and  gamble,  aud 
cheat,  and  steal,  but  now,  I  want  to  be  holy 
and  pure.  I  hate  the  things  I  loved  then, 
and.  I  pray  to  God  every  day  to  keep  me  from 
doing  them.  It  is  because  I  love  the  Saviour 
who  died  for  me,  that  I  am  difierent  from 
what  I  was — and  it  makes  me  so  happy, 
mother,  that  I  want  3'ou  and  every  one  else  to 
love  him  too." 

"  AVhen  I  was  a  little  girl,"  said  IMrs.  Hall, 
"I  remember  my  grandmother  used  to  tell 
me  about  Jesus  Christ,  but  it  is  years  ago. 
I  have  forgotten  it  all  now." 


182  AXDY    nALL, 


"He  hasn't  forgotten  you,  mother,  and  h© 
loves  you  and  wants  you  to  love  him.  Wont 
you  kneel  down  here  with  me,  mother,  and 
let  me  pray  with  you,  and  ask  him  to  help 
you  to  come  to  him  ?  " 

Thus  urged,  Mrs.  Hall  knelt,  and  wonder- 
ing, listened  to  the  fervent  petitions  oflfered 
for  her,  and  the  wish,  feeble  and  faint,  it  is 
true,  sprang  up  in  her  sad,  worn  heart,  that 
she  might  begin  to  lead  a  better  life.  The 
moon  and  the  stars  that  Roxy  used  to  love  to 
watch,  sho^vn  do^rn  upon  the  bowed  figures 
of  mother  and  son,  and  far  above  moon  and 
stars,  Jesus  heard  the  earnest  prayer,  and 
happy  angels  sang  together  for  joy  that  one 
more  sinner  had  begun  to  look  heavenward. 


Andy  as  a  Student.— P.  183. 


CHAPTEK  XVn. 

NDEEW'S  daily  duties  left  him  several 
^^U    leisure  hours,  and  these  he  spent  in 
^^  faithful,  earnest  study.      It  had  been 
^^5^  the  cherished  desire  of  his  heart  since 
^     his  conversion,  to  preach  the  gospel 
of  Christ,  and  carry  to  the  poor  and  wretched 
the  tidings  of  savlation  by  faith.     None  knew 
better  than  he,  the  sin  that  existed  in  the  low 
quarters  of  the  city,  for  he  had  been  rescued 
from  it,  and  he  felt  that  it  was  his  mission  to 
lead  others   up  out  of  the  terrible  pit,  and 
point  them  to  the  rock  on  which  they  might 
firmly   and   securely   stand.      This  was  the 
motive  that  inspired  him  to  study  and  read, 
hour  after  hour,  when  many  would  have  given 
way  to  weakness  ;  this  it  was  that  led  him  to 
save   every  penny   that   was   not   absolutely 


184  ANDY     HALL, 


needed  to  supply  bis  mother's  wants  and  his 
ovv'n,  and  he  confidently  jioped  in  two  3^ears 
to  be  ready  to  commence  bis  education. 
Patiently  he  labored,  earnesth^  he  studied, 
fervently  he  prayed,  always  bearing  in  mind 
the  injunction  of  the  apostle,  which  he  had 
adopted  for  his  motto,  "  Be  not  slothful  in 
business  ;  fervent  in  spirit ;  serving  the  Lord." 
But  God's  ways  are  not  ours.  True  it  is 
that  he  hears  and  answers  the  prayers  of  his 
children,  but  not  always  at  the  time  or  in  the 
manner  we  expect. 


'*  In  ways  thoy  have  not  known 
He  leads  his  own." 


Andrew  was  just  entering  his  nineteenth 
3'ear ;  he  had  been  faithful  and  diligent,  and 
in  one  short  month  he  expected  to  enter  the 

Academ}^  at  Vr ,  when  the  first  gun  fired 

at  Fort  Sumter,  kindled  the  fire  of  patriotism 
to  a  blaze  in  the  hearts  of  all  lo3"al  men.  We 
remember,  as  though  it  were  but  3^esterda3%  the 
excitement  that  ensued ;  how  the  noble  volan- 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  ARMY.      185 

teers  came  pouring  in  from  the  North  and  the 
West,  eao'er  to  fis^ht  and  willino^  to  fall  for  the 
glorious  Union.  We  remember  how  bravely 
they  went  forth,  how  hopefully  they  bade  the 
dear  ones  who  could  only  wait  and  pra}^ 
good-bye.  Oh!  yes,  we  remember  it  well, 
for  many,  many  of  them  will  never  come  back 
any  more,  and  their  homes  are  desolate. 

Andrew  Hall's  impulsive  spirit  was  among 
the  first  to  take  fire. 

"It  is  my  duty,  mother,"  was  his  firm 
answer  to  her  remonstrances.  "First  my 
God,  next  my  counrry,  then  my  mother.  I 
cannot  stay  quietly  at  home,  and  know  that 
others  are  laying  down  their  lives  for  my 
liberties.  I  must  he  there,  and  if  I  foil,  God 
will  take  care  of  you.  You  have  learned  to 
trust  in  him." 

Yes  ;  that  was  true.  Won  by  the  Christian 
example  of  her  son  and  Mrs.  Bayley,  quite  as 
much  as  by  their  faithful  warnings  and  ex- 
hortations, Mrs.  Hall  had  been  led  to  the 
Saviour,  and  there   had  her  weary,  disco ur- 


186  AXDT    IT  ALL, 


aged  spirit,  found  the  comfoi't  and  repose 
for  which  it  longed.  But  as  her  faith  and 
hope  increased,  her  affection  for  her  bo}^  in- 
creased also,  and  she  found  it  very  hard  to 
give  him  up,  even  when  convinced  that  it  was 
his  duty  to  go. 

It  was  a  matter  of  great  rejoicing  to 
Andrew  that  he  was  to  enlist  under  Mr. 
Kent,  who  had  received  his  commission  as 
captain  of  company  B,  — th  regiment ;  and 
on  his  part,  Capt.  Kent  gladly  enrolled  his 
name,  for  he  had  watched  Andrew's  career 
with  deep  interest,  and  he  well  knew  the 
value  of  such  men  in  trying  and  responsible 
stations. 

The  evening  preceding  the  departure  of 
the  regiment,  was  spent  by  our  young  volun- 
teer in  Aunt  Becky's  prayer-meeting.  It 
was  touching  to  hear  the  prayers  that  were 
offered  for  the  preservation  of  him  who  had 
so  long  read  and  ex^^lained  to  them  the  AVord 
of  God.  Rosy's  broken  words,  aunt  Becky's 
feeble  accents,  the  sobs  of  his  mother,  and 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAPv  IX  THE  AP3IY.     187 

the  silent  tears  of  Mrs.  Bayley,  was  enough 
to  move  a  much  harder  heart  than  Andrew's, 
but  not  a  tear  dimmed  the  brightness  of  his 
eye.  It  was,  indeed,  sad  to  part  with  his 
friends,  but  glorious  to  offer  up  his  life  for 
his  country,  and  thus  inspired  with  enthu- 
siasm, he  could  not  weep. 

When  the  meeting  was  over,  Aunt  Becky 
grasped  his  hand,  and  holding  it  in  both  her 
own,  said  solemnly,  "I  bless  the  Lord  that 
you're  going,  child.  The  light's  beginning  to 
dawn!  Light  for  my  people— the  day  of 
Jubilee ;  they've  prayed  for  it,  and  longed  for 
it,  and  waited  for  it,  and,  praise  God,  'tis 
a'most  come.  You'll  come  back,  child,  I  feel 
it  right  here,"  placing  one  hand  upon  her 
heart.  " '  A  thousand  shall  fall  at  thy  side, 
and  ten  thousand  at  thy  right  hand ;  but  it 
shall  not  come  nigh  thee.'  I  believe  I  shall 
live  to  see  you  again  in  this  world,  but  if  not 
we'll  meet  up  there— up  there  !  " 

"Yes,  Aunt  Becky,  thank  God  for  that !  " 
added  Rosy,  drawing  near,  her  dark  face  wet 


188  AXDY    HALL, 


with  tears,  but  beaming  with  joy.  "  There's 
mail}'-  mansions  in  our  Father's  house,  and 
Jesus  is  a  preparing  of  'em  for  all  his  dear 
friends ;  'twont  be  long  at  the  longest  'fore  he 
calls  us  to  come ;  so  keep  your  lamp  trimmed 
and  burning,  child,"  and  she  turned  towards 
Andrew,  and  laying  her  hand  on  his  head, 
continued,  "you've  got  one  to  go  with  you, 
that  wont  never  leave  you  'less  you  leave 
him  ;  3^ou  know  who  that  is  ;  and  I  pray  God 
to  keep  you  out  of  sin,  more'n  out  of  danger. 
The  worst  any  one  can  do  to  you  is  to  kill 
your  body,  and  send  you  home  to  glory,  so 
that  wouldn't  be  very  bad ;  but  if  you  should 
go  a  straying  off  away  from  Jesus,  and  get 
into  bad  waj^s  and  bad  companjs  it  would  be 
a  thousand  times  worse'n  death ;  so  keep 
your  armor  bright,  child,  and  the  Lord  bless 
you." 

Such  were  the  parting  words  of  the  two 
old  colored  women,  to  whom  Andrew  was  as 
dear  as  though  he  had  been  their  own  child. 

On   reaching   home,  Mrs.  Bay  ley  found  a 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AEIMY.     189 


neat  little  parcel  on  the  sitting-room  table, 
directed  to  "Andrew  Hall,  private,  company 
B,  — th  regiment."  Andrew  laughed  as  he 
read  the  address,  but  on  opening  the  package, 
which  contained  a  small  but  very  handsome 
copy  of  the  Bible,  the  laugh  was  changed  to  a 
smile  of  surprise  and  pleasure,  for,  on  the 
fly-leaf  was  written : 

.  "Presented  to  Andrew  Hall,  by  his  af- 
fectionate friends,  the  members  of  Mrs. 
Laurie's  class,   in  the  Mission  School." 

Andrew  stood  thoughtfully  turning  the 
pages,  and  his  memory  ran  back  over  the 
past  fom*  years  of  his  life.  The  heavy  night's 
sleep  on  Mr.  Kent's  door  steps.  Miss  Hilary 
singing  in  the  librar}^,  Lily's  sweet  voice  and 
persuasive  smile ;  the  first  morning  in  the 
Mission  School ;  little  Eoxy's  dying  words,  his 
promise  to  her;  his  father's  terrible  death,  his 
conversion,  his  hopes  of  entering  the  Chris- 
tian ministry ;  his  days  of  toil,  and  the  hard 
study  of  many  sleepless  nights ;  the  conver- 
sion of  his  mother,  now  so  dear  to  his  heart ; 


190  A^^)Y   HALL, 

his  humble,  but,  as  he  hoped,  not  fruitless 
labors  in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord, — all  these 
memories  came  rushing  back  upon  him,  with 
such  \dvidness,  that  he  seemed  almost  living 
them  over  again. 

Mrs.  Hall  aroused  him  from  his  reverie,  by 
laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  and  sa^nng,  in 
a  voice  that  she  vainly  tried  to  make  steady, 

"  It  is  past  ten  o'clock,  Andy,  and  you've 
got  to  be  up  early  to-morrow.  Hadn't  you 
better  read  now,  and  then  go  to  bed?" 

"Yes,  mother,"  and  Andrew  looked  affec- 
tionately down  into  her  pale,  worn  face,  and 
smoothed  the  grey  locks  from  her  forehead. 
"I  have  kept  you  up  too  late,  but  I'm  afraid 
you  don't  mean  to  sleep  much  to-night." 

Andrew  was  correct  in  that  supposition, 
but  little  did  he  expect  that  for  the  two 
night's  past,  she  had  not  closed  her  eyes,  but 
had  spent  the  silent  hours  in  tears  and 
prayers  for  him. 

Mrs.  Bayley  brought  the  Bible,  and  laid  it 
open  upon  the  table  before  him.     Comforting 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AP^IY.     191 

aucl  blessed,  was  the  passage  upon  which  his 
eyes  fell,  and  he  chose  it  for  this  last  night's 
reading.  Centuries  ago,  the  early  Christians 
rested  upon  it  with  calm  confidence,  as  they 
praised  God  in  the  gloomy  catacoml^s  of 
Rome,  undismayed  by  the  fearful  threats  of 
their  persecutors ;  it  had  brought  comfort  to 
martyrs  and  saints  in  all  ages  of  the  Church, 
and  as  Andrew  now  read  it,  it  filled  his  own 
soul  with  assurance,  and  his  listeners  with 
peace. 

"God  is  our  refuge  and  strength,  a  very 
present  help  in  trouble.  Therefore,  will  not 
w^e  fear,  though  the  earth  be  removed,  and 
though  the  mountains  be  carried  into  the 
midst  of  the  sea.  Though  the  waters  thereof 
roar  and  be  troubled ;  though  the  mountains 
shake  with  the  swelling  thereof.  There  is  a 
river,  the  streams  whereof  shall  make  glad 
the  city  of  God,  the  holy  place  of  the  taber- 
nacles of  the  Most  High.  God  is  in  the 
midst  of  her ;  she  shall  not  be  moved ;  God 
shall  help  her,  and  that  right  early." 


102  ANDY    HALL, 


"  They  were  comfoi'ta])le  words,  dear  moth- 
er," said  Andrew,  when  after  the  se>ii8ou  of 
devotion,  they  were  about  to  separate  for  the 
night.  "The  Lord  of  hosts  is  with  us;  the 
God  of  Jacob  is  our  refuge — our  refi/jge,  yours 
and  mine,  so  long  as  we  trust  in  him.  Let  us 
not  be  troubled  or  cast  down." 

"I  do* try  not  to  be,  Andy,"  and  the  poor 
woman  hid  her  foce  upon  his  shoulder,  sol)- 
biiig,  "  but  it  is  so  dark  ;  it  is  so  hard  to  give 
up  the  only  one  in  the  world  who  really 
cares  for  me,  and  to  think  that  I  ma}'  never 
see  him  again." 

She  had  said  the  same  thing  over  and  over 
again,  ])ut  Andrew  patiently  soothed  her 
grief,  and  at  length  had  the  happiness  of 
seeing  her  raise  her  head,  and  even  make  an 
eflbrt  to  smile,  as  he  kissed  her  and  said, 
"good-night." 

At  noon  the  next  day,  the  — th  regiment 
set  out  amid  the  cheers  and  good  wishes  of 
assembled  thousands,  for  Washington. 

They  were  noi>le  h>oking  fellows,  the  men 


THE  jVnSSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AR?,n^      103 


composing  that  regiment,  and  as  mothers, 
sisters,  wives,  and  children  ckmg  about  them, 
it  was  no  shame  to  their  manhood  if  a  few 
scalding  tears  fell  from  their  eyes ;  for  this 
was  no  ordinary  parting,  and  not  one  of  all 
the  number  but  felt  that  it  might  be  for  the 
last  time. 

As  the  train  moved  slowly  from  the  station, 
Mrs.  Hall  saw  through  her  tears  the  form  of 
her  son,  standing  on  the  platform  of  the  rear 
car,  with  a  hopeful  smile  upon  his  face,  his 
cap  in  his  hand,  his  eyes  raised  towards 
heaven.  O  !  how  many  times  in  the  weary 
months  of  anxiety  and  suspense  that  followed, 
did  the  remembrance  of  that  smile  and  the 
uplifted  face,  soothe,  comfort,  and  console 
her. 


CHAPTER  XVm. 

T  must  not  be  supposed  that  Andrew 
Hall,  ardent  as  he  was,  enlisted  without 
first  seeking  direction  from  Him  whom 
he  had  made  the  guide  of  his  youth. 
It  is  true  that  his  spu'it  was  kindled 
with  enthusiasm,  but  his  judgment  was  also 
convinced  that  the  path  he  now  chose  was 
marked  out  for  him  by  Providence.  And  so 
he  went  forth  to  fight,  perchance  to  fall  for 
the  country  he  loved.  Our  first  volunteers, 
as  we  all  know,  were  for  the  most  part  totally 
ignorant  of  military  life.  ]\Iany  of  them  had 
never  handled  a  musket,  but  as  in  the  days  of 
the  Revolution,  so  now,  they  came  from  the 
work-shop,  tlie  field,  and  the  institutions *of 
learning,  inspired  with  one  solemn  purpose. 
In  the  words  of  another,  "they  were  earnest, 
grave,  determined."      Badly  equipped,  hag- 


THE  3IISSIOX  SCTTOLAr.  IX  THE  AE:MY.      105 


grircl,  unshorn,  they  yet  had  a-  manhood  in 
then*  look  that  hardship  could  not  kill.  They 
were  evidently  thinking  all  the  time  of  the 
conflict  into  which  they  were  about  to  enter. 
Their  gray,  eager  eyes,  seemed  to  be  looking 
for  the  hei^rhts  of  Yiro^inia.  It  is  not  our 
present  purpose  to  follow  Andi'ew  and  his 
reoiment  on  their  march  to  Washin^^on.  We 
have  read  of  the  way  they  went  under  a  "  sun 
that  poured  down  its  rays  like  hot  lava  ;  "  of 
the  night  vigils  when,  still  marching  through 
lonely  pine  woods  and  gloomy  passes,  and 
over  treacherous  looking  bridges,  the  thought 
of  their  countr^^'s  flag  trampled  under  traitor- 
ous feet,  of  the  youthful  foims  shot  down  in 
the  streets  of  Baltimore,  and  of  the  dear  ones 
at  home,  filled  their  hearts  with  more  burning 
patriotism,  and  their  eyes  with  tears.  Xeither 
will  we  pause  to  recount  the  scenes  of  the 
first  three  months  of  active  sei'vice,  although 
Andrew's  fearless  courage  and  perseverance 
in  the  engagements  at  Little  and  Great  Bethel, 
won  for  him  the  encomiums  of  his  superior 


196  AXDY    HALL, 

officers,  and  were  the  means  of  his  prolnotion 
from  private  to  sergeant  of  the  compan3\  At 
the  close  of  three  months,  he  enlistctl  fur 
three  years,  writing  home  to  his  mother, 
"  There  is  so  much  to  be  done  that  I  cannot 
return  to  you  with  a  free  conscience.  I  idust 
stay  and  help  Jight  it  out.  It  is  not  for  the 
Union  alone,  mother,  but  for  our  free  institu- 
tions, that  the  war  must  go  on  until  we 
conquer :  and  conquer  we  sliall,  for  God- 
is  with  us.  Mother,  I  charge  you,  Avhen  you 
pray  for  me,  pray  also  for  the  poor  slaves. 
Aunt  Becky  says  the  day  is  dawning  for  lier 
race,  and  it  is  true ;  but  our  own  northern 
men  refuse  to  see  the  si^^ns  of  it.  God  errant 
that  the  time  ma}^  speedily  come  when  the 
oppressed  shall  be  free,  when  we  shall  recog- 
nize, even  in  the  bond  slave,  our  brother  and 
our  friend." 

AYith  his  regiment,  and  especially  with  the 
members  of  his  company,  Andrew  was  respect- 
ed and  beloved.  At  first,  when  they  found 
that  he  was  a  "  praying  man,''  they  were  dis- 


THE  MISSION  SCnOLAE  IX  THE  AEMY.      197 


posecl  to  shun  and  ridicule  him,  but  as  day 
by  day  they  watched  him  and  found  him  ever 
earnest  and  hopeful,  their  contempt  gave  place 
to  respect;  afterwards,  when  in  battle,  he 
proved  himself  calm,  composed  and  brave,  they 
gave  him  their  warm  regard.  They  knew  not 
the  secret  of  his  strength,  but  it  lay  within 
the  covers  of  'the  little  Bible  that  he  carried 
in  his  breast-pocket,  and  in  the  frequent,  si- 
lent prayers  that  found  their  way  from  his 
heart,  up  to  God's  throne,  not  for  himself 
alone,  but  for  his  companions  in  arms. 

The  profanity  and  intemperance,  so  alarm- 
ingly prevalent,  not  only  among  the  privates, 
but  also  among  all  ranks  of  officers,  were  a 
source  of  great  pain  and  anxiety  to  our  young 
Christian  soldier.  They  recalled  with  sicken- 
ing vividness  the  days  of  his  childhood,  the 
sin  and  degradation  of  his  home,  the  sorrows 
that  had  cast  a  heavy  shadow  over  much  of 
his  life,  and  he  longed  for  an  opportunity  to 
d(j  something  to  stay  the  tide  of  evil  that 
threatened  to  demoralize  the  army  and  ruin 


198  AXDY'HALL, 


the  cause  in  Tvhicli  it  was  eniracfccl.  But 
v.liat  could  he  do?  This  was  the  question 
that  troubled  and  perplexed  him,  and  as  day 
after  da}^  and  week  after  week  passed  on,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he .  was  growing  hard  and 
careless  by  inactivity.  True  he  was  faithful 
to  the  most  minute  duty  devolving  upon  him 
as  a  soldier  in  the  Federal  army,  but  what 
rras  he  doing  in  the  army  of  the  Lord?  In 
llio  midst  of  foes  and  danger,  was  he  bearing 
aloft  the  banner  of  the  cross?  "  No,  no,"  he 
sadly  answered,  as  pacing  back  and  forth  on 
his  guard  in  the  night  watches,  he  mused  upon 
his  present  life,  so  different  from  the  one  to 
which  he  had  looked  forward  with  high  hopes. 

And  yet  Andrew  Hall  was  a  daily  and  living 
epistle  "  known  and  read  of  all  men,"  show- 
ing by  his  every  act,  whose  he  was,  and  whom 
he  served,  and  only  the  judgment  day  would 
reveal  the  power  that  lay  in  his  silent  exam- 
ple. 

Feeling  thus  doubtful  whether  he  were 
really  doing  what  he  might   for  the  souls  of 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARSIY.     109 


his  companions,  a  little  incident  occurred  just 
before  the  battle  of  Antietam,  which  gave  An- 
drew abundant  cause  for  gratitude,  while  at 
the  same  time  it  surprised  him. 

It  was  quite  late  in  the  evening,  and  he  sat 
in  his  shelter  tent  writing  to  his  mother,  the 
letter  that  might  prove  to  be  his  last,  when 
he  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  tall, 
dark-browed  man,  much  older  than  himself, 
and  beariug  upon  his  face  the  marks  of  a  long 
course  of  dissipation  and  sin. 

"Will  you  write  a  letter  for  me.  Hall?"  he 
asked,  and  Andrew  fancied  that  the  rough 
voice  was  slightly  tremulous. 

"  Certainl}^,"  said  Andrew,  cheerfully  laying 
aside  his  paper  and  taking  a  fresh  sheet. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  disturb  you ;  perhaps  I 
ought  to  wait  until  you  get  through  your  own 
letter?" 

"  O  !  no  ;  I  can  finish  that  just  as  well  by- 
and-by." 

"I  want  to  write  to  my  wife,"  said  the  man, 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  '*  and  I  don't 


200  ANDY    HALL, 


know  just  what  to  say ;  or  mthcr  how  to 
say  v/hat  I  want  to.  I  haven't  been  a  very 
good  husband  to  her,  and  I'm  sorry^  for  it. 
Before  I  enlisted  I  'most  killed  her  by  drink- 
ing ;  ])ut  I  couldn't  help  it.  I'd  make  up  my 
mind  that  I  would  leave  off,  but  there's  always 
somebody  to  tempt  rhe  to  break  my  word. 
Close  by  my  shop  there  was  a  grog  shop,  and 
somehow  I  couldn't  keep  away  from  it,  so  I'd 
go  home  night  after  night,  almost  dead  drunk, 
and  she  never  gave  me  a  cross  word  or  look, 
but  was  always  patient  and  kind.  Well,  when 
I  came  to  the  army  I  found  that  whiskey-  wasn't 
allowed,  and  I  plucked  up  coui*age.  For  now, 
thinks  I,  I'm  out  of  the  way  of  temptation. 
I've  felt  more  like  a  man  since  I've  been  here 
than  I  have  before  for  a  long  time.  But  to- 
night— you  know  how  it  was.  Hall — tiie 
whiskey  was  put  right  into  our  very  hands  by 
the  Colonel's  own  orders,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
I  vras  almost  crazy  after  it.  You  was  stand- 
ing near  by  with  that  little  Jenkins,  and  I  saw 
you  when  you  poured  3^our   share  out  upon 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  Hn  TPIE  AEMY.     201 

the  ground,  and  when  he  called  you  a  fool  for 
it,  I  listened  and   heard  you  tell  him  about 
your  little  sister,  and  the  promise  you  made 
her  when  she  was  a  dying.     It  brought  the 
tears  to  my  eyes,  I  tell  you.  Hall,  and  I  thought 
of  my  poor  wife  and  her  two  little  girls,  and 
1  went  off  by  myself  and  emptied  my  canteen 
on  the  ground  as  you  did,  though  the  smell 
of  it  was  so  tempting  that  I  could  have  got 
down  on  my  knees  and  lapped  it  up.     And 
now  I  want  to  tell  my  wife  of  it,  and  promise 
her  that  I'll  keep  steady  for  her  sake  and  the 
childrens,  and   ask  her  to   pray  for  me,  for 
she's  a  praying  woman,  Jane  is,  and  tell  her 
I  feel  strong,  to-night — stronger  than  ever  I 
did  before." 

Andrew  wrote  the  letter  with  a  thankful 
heart.  At  its  close  he  turned  to  his  com- 
panion and  said, 

"To-morrow,  Rollins,  we  go  into  battle. 
Shall  I  say  anything  about  it  to  her?" 

"Yes,"  and  Rollins  rose  to  his  feet  and 
di-ew  up  his  strong,  muscular  figure  to  its  full 


202  AXDY   II.\XL, 


height.  ''■  Tell  her  that  if  I'm  shot,  she  must 
remcinl^er  I  was  fighting  for  the  old  flag,  and 
that  my  last  thought  will  be  of  her  and  the 
children." 

"Now,"  he  continued,  as  Andrew  folded 
and  directed  the  letter,  "I'll  tell  you.  Hall,  it 
seems  kind  of  fixed  in  my  mind  that  I  wont 
get  out  of  the  battle  alive.  I  ain't  nervous 
al)out  it,  but  I'd  like  to  know  what'll  become 
of  me  afterwards.  You  a'n't  like  the  rest  of 
'em,  and  I  thought  perhaps  you'd  tell  me." 

"You  have  read  the  Bible,  haven't  you, 
Rollins?"  asked  Andrew,  laying  hi§  hand 
upon  the  copy  that  lay  open  before  him. 

"  Xot  since  I  was  a  little  boy.  I  went  to 
Sunday  School  two  or  three  months  when  I 
was  twelve  or  thirteen,  and  I  used  to  learn 
verses  then,  but  I've  forgotten  them  all  now." 

"  Let  me  read  what  it  says  about  the  soul 
after  death ;  it  is  the  word  of  God,  Rollins, 
and  every  word  is  true .     Sit  down,  will  you  ?  " 

RolHns  threw  himself  upon  the  ground,  and 
bowing  his  head    so  thai  not  a  feature  of  his 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AR^IY.     203 


face  could  be  seen,  listened  intently  to  the 
passages  that  Andrew  carefully  selected  with 
reference  to  the  question  which  he  had  asked. 

At  the  close  of  half  an  hour,  Andrew 
paused,  and  in  the  same  moment  Rollins  sud- 
denly raised  his  head.  His  face  wore  the 
whiteness  of  death,  and  as  he  fixed  his  burn- 
ing eyes  upon  his  companion,  he  uttered  the 
despairing  cry — 

"  Hall,  I  am  a  lost  man  !     lam  a  lost  man!'' 

"Thank  God,  if  you  see  that !"  said  An- 
drew, ferventl}^  "  Lost !,  Yes,  it  is  true,  but 
this  Saviour  of  whom  Ave  have  read  is  w^ait- 
ing  to  save  you.  He  will '  save  unto  the  ut- 
termost.' Will  you  come  to  him  just  as  you 
are?" 

"  What !  with  all  this  guilt  on  my  soul, 
that  is  dragging  me  down  to  perdition  !  Would 
he  take  me  as  I  am  ?  " 

In  reply  to  this  question,  Andrew  sang,  in 
his  rich,  clear  voice,  the  precious  words  that 
have  soothed  and  comforted  hundreds  of  fear- 
ful, penitent  hearts  : 


204  AXDY    ILVLL, 


*'  Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea, 
But  that  thy  blood  was  shed  for  me. 
And  that  thou  bidst  me  come  to  thee, 
0  Lamb  of  God  I  come. 

"  Just  as  I  am,  and  waiting  not, 
To  rid  my  soul  of  one  dark  blot; 
-To  thee,  whose  blood  can  cleanse  each  spot, 
0  Lamb  of  God  I  come." 

Wlieu  he  ceased  singing,  Rollins  got  np 
from  the  gTouncl.  "  I'm  obliged  to  you,  Hall," 
he  said  in  a  broken  voice,  "I've  bothered  you 
too  long,  and  I'll  go  now ;  but  perhaps,  when 
you  pray  to-night,  you'll  remember  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  will;  but  you  will  pray  for  your- 
self?" 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  sighed  Rollins,"  but  I  don't 
know  how." 

"  You  know  what  you  want,"  said  Andrew  ; 
"is  it  hard  to  ask  for  that,  when  God  has 
promised  to  listen  ?  " 

"  Salvation,  Christ,  heaven,  I  want  'em  all. 
O,  I  want  'em  all !  "  and  the  strong  frame  of 
the  soldier  trembled  with  emotion,  that  he  had 
striven  hard  to  suppress.  • 

"  Let  us  kneel  and  pray  together,"  said  An- 
di-ew,  "  and  remember  that  God  is  not  like 


THE  INHSSIOX  SCHOLAE  IX  THE  AR:MT.      205 


kings  and  great  men  of  this  world.  If  you 
are  sincere,  and  mean  what  you  say,  he  T^-ill 
forgive  all  the  imperfection  of  language.  He 
looks  at  the  heart,  not  at  the  words,  Rollins." 
Like  the  prayer  of  the  publican,  was  the  pe- 
titions that  Rollins  sent  up  to  heaven  at  that 
hour.  The  burden  of  it  was,  "  God  be  mer- 
ciful— for  Christ's  sake,  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner  I "  and  although  when  he  left  the  tent 
it  was  with  a  dejected  countenance,  and  ex- 
pressions of  deep  anguish  in  view  of  his  sins, 
Andrew  could  not  but  feel  that  God  would 
answer  him,  and  send  peace  to  the  suffering 
soul.  In  the  battle  of  the  followins:  day.  An- 
drew  and  Rollins  fought  almost  side  by  side, 
but  "  one  was  taken  and  the  other  left."  Just 
as  victory  was  certain  for  our  troops,  Rollins 
fell,  shot  through  the  breast.  For  one  mo- 
ment Andrew  bent  over  him,  and  as  the  life 
blood  poured  forth  from  the  temble  wound, 
and  the  purple  shadow  of  death  settled  around 
the  mouth  and  the  closed  eyes,  a  single  word 
breathed,  rather  than  spoken,  escaped  from 
those  panting  lips.     That  word  was  "  Jesus!  " 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

:^S;'HE  prophet  Elijah  once   complained 

,^^  that  the  name  of  Jehovah  was  for^fot- 

ten    by  the    children  of  Israel,    and 

that  he  alone  was  left  to  serve  God, 

'^  and  so  far  as  he  was  able  to  see,  this 
was  the  case.  The  time  was  very  dark, 
and  deeply  must  the  good  prophet  have 
mourned  over  the  sins  of  the  people.  But 
suddenly,  breaking  in  upon  him  like  the 
bright  sun  through  thick  clouds,  came  the 
joyful  tidings  from  God  himself,  "  I  have 
left  mp  seven  thousand  in  Israel,  all  the  knees 
which  have  not  bowed  unto  Baal,  and  every 
mouth  which  hath  not  kissed  him." 

Then  Elijah  took  courage. 

In  a  like  desponding  state  was  Andrew 
Hall,  as  we  have  seen,  when  poor  Eollins 
came  to  him  for  religious   conversation.     So 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AR:\n^.     20 7 


long  as  Capt.  Kent  remained  Tvith  the  regi- 
ment, there  was  one  with  whom  he  could 
hold  sweet,  Christian  communion ;  but  when 
he  left  it,  with  tailing  health,  at  the  close  of 
three  months,  Andrew  felt  that  he  was  indeed 
alone.  The  chaplain,  like  too  many  of  the 
chaplains  in  our  army,  was  not  a  man  of  vital 
earnest  piety,  and  the  cold  indifierence  that 
met  him  on  every  hand,  not  only  from  the 
men  themselves,  but  from  the  officers  who 
should  have  sustained  him,  seemed  to  exthi- 
guish  even  the  faint  flame  in  his  breast'.  An 
occasional  and  very  brief  service  on  Sunday, 
was  the  extent  of  his  religious  labors,  and 
even  this  ceased  after  a  time,  and  the  Sabbath 
was  spent  by  the  men,  and  alas !  by  the 
officers,  in  smoking,  card-playing,  and, 
wherever  it  was  possible,  in  gambhng  and 
drinking. 

The  death  of  Rollins,  and  the  incident  of 
the  previous  evening,  led  Andrew  to  think 
even  more  seriously  than  before  upon  his 
duty  as  a  soldier  of  Christ,  and  he  determined, 


208  ANDY    HALL, 


let  come  what  would  of  scorn,  shame,  and 
derision,  to  attempt  some  service  for  the 
Captain  of  his  salvation. 

Accordingly,  when  a  suitable  time  came, 
he  invited  a  few  of  the  most  seriously  dis- 
posed of  his  company  to  meet  in  a  grove  near 
his  tent,  for  a  prayer-meeting.  This  in- 
vitation was  received  by  some  with  an 
incredulous  smile,  by  others  with  a  decided 
refusal,  and  by  two  or  three  with  evident 
pleasure.  Andrew  almost  trembled  for  the 
result  of  this  feeble  effort,  but  his  trust  was 
in  God,  and  he  knew  that  it  would  be  accept- 
ed for  the  motive,  whatever  were  the  conse- 
quences to  others.  He  was  at  the  appointed 
place  some  moments  before  the  hour  named, 
and  those  moments  were  spent  in  silent  but 
earnest  praj^er,  for  the  aid  and  comfort  of  the 
Holy  Spirit. 

One  by  one  the  men  dropped  in,  until  eight 
or  ten  were  there,'  some  leaning  against  the 
trunks  of  trees,  others  stretched  out  upon 
the  green   sward,  their  dark,  sunburnt  faces 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARJUY.     209 


turned  towards  the  leader,  who  stood  with 
uncovered  head,  m  then-  midst. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  when  all  was  still,  "you 
think  it  is  a  strange  thing  that  I  have  asked 
3'ou  to  come  here  for  a  prayer-meeting  to- 
nisrht.  I  had  some  reasons  for  doino^  so  that 
I  want  to  tell  you  by-and-by,  but  first,  if  you 
please,  we  will  sing  together  some  familiar 
tune. 

*' '  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood. 
Drawn  from  Immanuel's  veins.' 

You've  all  sung  that  at  home,  and  it  is  a  good 
hymn  for  us." 

Andrew's  voice  was  rich  and  powerful,  and 
as  its  notes  rang  out  full  and  clear,  other 
voices  joined  Avith  it,  and  filled  the  air  with 
sweet  melody.  A  brief  passage  of  Scripture 
followed  the  hymn,  and  then  Andrew  again 
addressed  his  companions. 

"Boys,  you  all  knew  Rollins.  I  saw  him 
when  he  fell ;  he  fought  like  the  brave  man 
that  he  was,  and  the  name  that  was  last  on 
his  dying  lips,  was  ^  Jesus.'    I  have  something 


210  ANDY   HALL, 


to  tell  you,  about  Rollins ;  something  that 
happened  the  night  before  he  died."  Here 
the  attention  of  the  men  was  intently  fixed, 
and  theA^  listened,  not  without  emotion,  to 
the  account  of  the  conversation  of  their  late 
companion,  in  his  last  interview  with  Ser- 
geant Hall. 

"  I  think  God  heard  his  prayers,"  continued 
Andrew.  "I  think  he  died  in  peace,  and  as 
I  thought  of  him,  the  rest  of  that  day,  tremb- 
ling under  a  sense  of  his  sins,  and  learning 
what  he  could  of  Jesus,  the  Saviour  of  sin- 
ners, and  then  breathing  out  his  life  with  the 
name  of  ^Jesus'  on  his  purple  lips,  I  deter- 
mined, boys,  to  do  what  I  could  to  induce 
others  to  make  ready  for  the  same  fate.  It  is 
not  right  for  us  to  rush  into  the  battle  like 
brute  beasts,  for  we  have  souls  that  must  be 
saved  or  lost ;  and  as  we  can't  tell  how  soon 
our  turn  may  come  to  die,  we  have  no  time  to 
lose  in  getting  ready.  AYhat  we  do  must  be 
done  quickly.  Xow,  my  friends,  you  know 
one  reason  v\hy  I   asked  you  to  come  to  a 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AEMT.     211 


prayer-meeting,  but  I  have  still  another.  If 
you  have  patience  to  listen,  I  will  tell  you  a 
story  of  my  own  life.  I  will  tell  you  what  I 
have  been,  and  I  will  tell  you  what,  by  the 
grace  of  Gocl,  I  am  trying  to  be." 

"We  all  know  that  well  enough,"  said  one 
of  the  men  with  a  poor  attempt  at  a  laugh,  in 
which  no  one  joined. 

.  Andrew  took  no  notice  of  the  interruption, 
but  in  a  few  words  sketched  the  dark  outline 
of  his  early  history.  He  told  them  how  sin- 
ful was  his  boyhood,  how  miserable  his 
prayerless  home ;  tenderly  he  lingered  over 
the  memory  of  little  Eoxy,  her  suffering  life 
and  her  peaceful  death  ;  he  spoke  of  what  rum 
had  done  for  his  father,  what  it  was  doing  for 
himself  when  he  gave  his  Avord  to  Eoxy  to 
touch  it  no  more ;  and  so  eloquent  were 
his  Avords,  so  impassioned  his  voice  and 
manner,  that,  as  he  paused,  lie  found  that 
tears  Avere  falling  fast  over  the  rough  cheeks 

of  his  auditors.     He  closed  his  remarks  AAdth 

• 

an  earnest  appeal  to  them  to  forsake  all  in- 


212  ANDY   H.\LL, 

toxicating  drinks,  and  to  prepare  for  the  hour 
of  death,  which  was  undoubtedh^  near  to 
some,  if  not  all  of  them,  and  then,  inviting 
others  to  speak  or  praj,  he  sat  down. 

There  was  perfect  silence  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  no  one  seemed  inclined  to 
break  it,  but  at  length  a  very  young  man 
rose  to  his  feet,  and  said  in  tremulous  ac- 
cents : 

"  I  am  a  professing  Christian,  but  I  haven't 
lived  up  to  my  profession.  It  is  hard  to 
serve  God  in  the  army,  but  I  mean  to  try  to 
do  it  from  to-night.  I  have  a  mother  and 
sister  praying  for  me  at  home."  Here  his 
voice  faltered  and  ceased  altogether,  and 
Andrew  struck  up, 

*'  My  soul  be  on  thy  guard — 
Ten  thousand  foes  arise; 
The  hosts  of  sin  are  pressing  hard 
To  drcxw  thee  fi-om  the  skies." 

At  its  close,  a  tall,  hard-featured  man  rose, 
and  dashing  the  moisture  from  his  eyes,, 
spoke    as    follows :    "  I   have    been    fighting 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AEMY.     213 

against  God  all  my  life  long ;  I  haven't  been 
inside  of  a  chnrch  for  fifteen  years  ;  I  haven't 
read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  since  I  was  a  boy ; 
I  have  spent  two  years  in  the  State's  prison  at 
Concord,  New  Hampshire  ;  my  fiither  and  my 
mother  were  drunkards;  rum  has  been  the 
curse  of  my  life,  but  I've  stuck  to  it  as  if  'twas 
my  best  friend ;  I  came  in  here,  to-night,  to 
laugh,  and  mock  at  you,  Sergeant  Hall,  but 
let  me  tell  you  all,  boys,  /  can't  laugh  noivl 
If  I  should  die  to-morrow,  I  should  go  to  hell  ! 
There's  no  matter  of  evil  that  I  haven't  had 
a  hand  in.  I  don't  know  what  to  do  ;  I  a'n't 
going  to  be  converted  ;  I'm  past  that ;  but  I'm 
going  to  stand  up  here  in  your  presence,  and 
in  the  presence  of  God— if  there  is  a  God— 
and  swear  that,  for  the  sake  of  the  little  girl 
that  died,  I'll  never  drink  another  drop  of  rum 
as  long  as  I  live  ;  and  if  the  story  of  her  life 
and  death  touches  the  soft  place  in  any  of  you 
as  it  has  in  me,  you'll  promise  the  same." 
This  promise,  coming  as  it  did  from  one  of 
the  most    hardened   men   of  their  company, 


214  AXDY   HALL, 

was  not  without  its  eflfect  upon  others.  One 
or  two  gave  a  similar  pledge,  and  Andrew 
felt  that  there  were  others  upon  whom  it 
would  not  be  lost.  He  knelt  and  prayed  with 
fervor  that  God  would  give  strength  to  them 
all  to  resist  sin  in  whatever  form  it  might 
come,  and  that  all  might  be  led  to  seek  that 
salvation  by  Christ,  which  would  give  cour- 
age in  the  hour  of  danger  and  comfort  in  the 
hour  of  death. 

The  meeting  was  closed  with  singing,  and 
the  men  dispersed  quietly,  one  only  remain- 
ing for  further  conversation  with  Andrew. 
This  one  was  the  youth  who  found  it  "  hard 
to  serve  God  in  the  army."  Together  they 
paced  up  and  down  the  green  in  front  of 
Andrew's  tent,  talldng  of  their  past  experi- 
ence, and  encouraging  and  strengthening  one 
another  in  the  faith  from  which  one  had 
swerved  and  almost  fallen,  until  a  late  hour, 
when  they  parted  like  two  brothers,  fondly 
hoping  for  future  opportunities  of  usefulness 
in  the  great  field  before  them. 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AKMY.     215 


Can  you  realize,  Christian,  the  joy  that 
filled  the  breast  of  Andrew  Hall,  as  he  wrap- 
ped his  blanket  around  him  and  lay  down  to 
sleep  that  night  ? 


CHAPTEE  XX. 


HE  soldiers'  Mail !  We  have  all  read 
and  heard  of  the  eagerness  with  which 
,^^  the  soldiers'  mail  is  received  in  camp  ; 
"^^^1  of  the  joy  that  flashes  over  the  rough, 
sunburnt  faces  of  the  brave  men  as 
they  receive  then*  respective  treasures.  A 
letter  from  home  !  How  the  sweet  spot,  with 
its  circle  of  dear  ones,  comes  up  before  the 
imagination  with  the  vividness  of  reality,  and 
how,  for  a  moment,  the  longing  wish  to  be 
there,  away  from  the  toil  and  danger  of  army 
life,  sends  a  sharp  pang  to  the  sternest  and 
most  patriotic  breast ! 

See  them  stealing  away  by  themselves,  the 
little  white  packages  clapped  close  in  their 
brown  fingers,  to  be  opened  and  read  away 
from  the  gaze  of  rude  or  inquisitive  eyes ; 
see  the  trembling   eagerness  with  which  the 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARMY.     217 


seals  are  broken,  the  hasty  glance  over  the 
closely  written  pages  for  the  assurance  that 
the  dear  home  friends  are  all  well,  and  then 
the  slow,  happy  perusal,  when  each  word  is 
lingered  over  as  if  it  were  traced  with  gold  ! 

Here  is  a  3'oung  man,  with  a  fair  Saxon 
face,  leaning  against  a  tree,  and  smiling  fond- 
ly as  his  blue  eyes  catch  the  loving  words 
written  by  the  little  white  hand  that  is  to  be 
his  own,  some  happy  day  in  the  future,  when 
this  terrible  war  is  over. 

Here  is  another  whose  dark  brow  brightens 
and  clears  at  the  message  sent  from  his  little 
boy  "  to  papa  in  the  army ; "  and  when  he 
sees  the  round  circle  at  the  bottom  of  the 
page,  and  reads,  "This  is  Bennie's  kiss  to 
papa,  with  Bennie's  lots  of  loves,"  he  raises  it 
to  his  bearded  lips,  and  a  suspicious  moisture 
dims  his  eye. 

A  third,  sits  upon  a  box  at  the  entrance  of 
his  shelter  tent,  and  the  lines  upon  Avhich  his 
attention  is  riveted  are  from  his  young  sister, 
just  learning  to  write,  and  delighting  to  send 


218  ANDY    HALL, 


her  absent  brother  spcciinciis  of  her  progress  ; 
hard  work  she  evidently  has  of  it,  and  the 
sheet  is  guiltless  of  punctuation  marks,  though 
capital  letters  abound  ;  but  the  brother  never 
minds  these  errors,  for  the  uneven,  mispelled 
words  assure  him  how  much  he  is  tho«2:ht  of 
at  home,  and  how  dearly  he  is  loved  by  his 
"  own  sister  Bessie." 

And  here,  sitting  under  the  shade  of  a  wide 
spreading  oak,  a  strong  man  bends  over  a 
well-filled  sheet,  and  reads  the  words  of  affec- 
tion that  a  mother's  hand  has  traced.  She 
has  written  him  the  village  news,  and  the  lit- 
tle items  of  home  life — how  nicely  Alice  is 
getting  on  with  her  music,  encouraged  to 
practice  three  hours  a  day  in  the  hope  of  be- 
ing able  to  play  something  really  difficult  and 
beautiful  to  her  brother  when  he  gets  home 
from  the  war ;  how  Plattie  and  Xed  have  sat 
for  their  photographs  to  send  to  him,  and  how 
Ked  was  so  excited  about  it  that  he  couldn't 
keep  his  little  face  still  long  enough,  and 
so  John  must  be  contented  with  an  ambrotype 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAF.  IX  THE  ARMY.     219 


instead;  how  the  golden  haired  pet  of  the 
household  still  rememl3ers  aud  prattles  about 
him,  and  asks  to  kiss  his  picture  every  day ; 
and  then  she  goes  on  to  speak  of  his  "  vacant 
seat  by  the  fireside,"  of  the  Sunday  evening 
sino-s,"  when  his  voice  was  so  sadly  missed  and 
longed  for  in  the  sweet,  familiar  hymns,  and 
as  the  young  man  reads  these  words  of  afiec- 
tion  from  one  whose  love  has  always  been 
fond,  faithful  and  true,  his  proud  head  droops 
lower,  and  his  breast  heaves  with  the  emotion 
that  he  can  no  longer  repress.  He  is  ready 
now^  to  listen  to  the  gentle  counsels  and  warn- 
ino-3  that  follow,  and  when  he  reads  at  the 
close,  "My  boy,  your  mother  is  praying  for 
you,"  he  inwardly  resolves  that  no  act  of  his 
shall  ever  wound  that  tender  heart. 

And  so  the  soldiers  in  camp  read  their  let- 
ters, and  smile  or  weep  as  they  read. 

Mother,  sister,  wife  and  beloved  one,  in 
your  peaceful  home,  waiting,  watching,  pray- 
ing for  3^our  soldier  friend,  whatever  you  feel 
of  sorrow  or  anguish  at  his  absence,  let  him 


220  ANDY     ITALL, 


guess  it  only  by  the  frequency  of  the  letters 
you  send  him ;  let  them  he  cheerful,  hopeful, 
and  full  of  simple  home  talk ;  and  above  all, 
don't  be  afraid  to  let  him  know  that  there  is 
an  hour  of  each  day  set  apart,  a  sacred  hour, 
in  which  you  plead  Avith  your  Father  in 
heaven  for  him.  The  army  is  a  hard  place 
for  a  man  to  be  in,  but  if  there  is  one  thing 
that  will  restrain  and  help  him,  it  is  the 
thought  that  in  his  dear,  distant  home  his 
mother,  sister  and  friend,  are  prajang  God  to 
save  him  from  danger  and  sin. 

There  are  other  letters  that  sometimes  reach 
the  soldier  beside  those  that  come  from  the 
he  art- circle  of  friends.  Kindly  little  missives, 
from  loving  children ;  they  drop  from  the 
sleeves  or  are  found  in  the  pockets  of  the 
flannel  shirts  that  are  sent  to  the  army  by  the 
ladies  of  the  Soldiers'  Aid  Societies  which  have 
sprung  up  all  over  our  country  in  this  time 
of  trial  and  need,  and  they  speak  in  "a  still 
small  voice "  of  Jesus  and  heaven.  The 
judgment  only  will  reveal  the  good  that  has 
been  accomplished  by  such  letters  as  these. 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AEMY.     221 


It  chanced — ah,  no  I  I  Tvill  not  say  chanced, 
for  God's  providence  is  over  all  things — but 
in  the  distril)ution  of  a  certain  box  of  clothing, 
there  fell  to  the  share  of  Watt  Kyes,  a  blue 
flannel  shirt,  in  the  sleeve  of  which  he  found 
a  letter  addressed  to  "  My  Soldier  Friend." 
It  was  just  after  the  prayer-meeting  of  which 
an  account  Avas  given  in  the  last  chapter,  and 
Watt  Kyes  was  the  man  who  on  that  occasion 
had  promised  to  drink  no  more  rum  "  for  the 
sake  of  the  little  girl  that  died."  The  letter, 
which  he  carried  to  Andrew  Hall  to  read,  for 
he  was  no  scholar  himself,  and  the  writing 
was  in  a  child's  unformed  hand,  was  as  fol- 
lows : 

"  My  dear  Friend, — 

The  Superintendent  of  our  Sunday  School  has 
invited  each  one  of  us  to  write  a  letter  to  a 
soldier,  lo  be  sent  with  a  box  of  clothes,  and  the 
letters  are  to  be  put  in  the  sleeves  and  pockets 
of  the  shirts.  As  I  don't  know  to  whom  this  let- 
ter will  go,  I  cannot  say  much,  but  I  hope  that 
who  will  get  this  letter  will  be  kind  enough  to 
write   back  to   me   and  tell  me  how  he  likes  it. 


222  AXDY   HALL, 


There  is  one  thing  I  want  to  ask  3^011,  and  that  is, 
do  you  love  to  read  the  Bible  and  other  good 
books?  I  hope  3^011  do,  fori  do.  I  have  sent 
3'ou  a  sheet  of  paper  and  envelop  with  this  letter, 
a^d  a  ver3^  good  little  book  for  3'ou  to  read,  and  I 
hope  3-ou  will  read  it  for  m3^  sake.  I  hope  God 
will  keep  you  from  all  harm  and  temptation,  and 
when  3'Ou  are  in  battle,  I  hope  God  will  keep 
watch  over  you,  and  not  let  a  ball  strike  3'ou,  and 
bring  3'Ou  safelv  home  when  it  is  time  for  the  war 
to  be  over.  I  hope  God  will  go  home  with  you 
and  keep  3'Ou  from  temptation  and  sin  after  3-ou 
get  there,  and  I  hope  3-ou  will  bless  God  for 
taking  such  good  care  of  3'ou  while  3'Ou  have  been 
in  such  danger  on  the  battle  field,  and  I  hope  you 
will  writ'^  to  me  and  let  me  know  if  3-ou  found 
Christ,  and  I  hope  3-ou  have  given  3-our  heart  to 
Christ.  Perhaps  3-ou  have  got  some  little  girl  of 
your  own  that  goes  to  Sunday  School,  and  that 
sends  3-ou  papers  to  read  when  3-ou  are  in  camp, 
and  also  who  thinks  of  3-ou  and  talks  about  3-ou, 
and  thinks  about  3-ou  when  3-ou  are  in  battle,  and 
wishes  that  3-ou  were  home  to  talk  to  her  and  tell 
her  stories  about  the  goo.l  people  in  the  Bible.  I 
have  got  a  brother  that  wants  to  be  a  drummer 
bo3-,  but  father  sa3-s  he  is  a  foot  too  short,  and  he 
is  only  six  3-ears  old.  I  am  eight  3-ears  old.  I 
think  I  have  written  quite  enough  for  the  first  time 
to  a  stranger  with  whom  I  am  not  acquainted,  nor 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  ARMY.      223 


did  I  ever  see  him,  but  I  hope  I  shall  hear  from 
him.  Please  to  answer  mj^ letter  as  soon  as  you 
have  time.     Love  Christ  for  my  sake. 

"  From  your  friend,  Anxie  Todd. 

*'  P.   S.  Excuse  bad  writing." 

"Dearlittle*girl !  "  said  Andrew,  folding  the 
letter,  and  placing  it  in  Watt  Kyes's  out- 
stretched hand.  "  She  is  one  of  Christ's  little 
lambs." 

"  To  think  of  her  taking  her  time  fo  write 
to  a  rough  soldier  that  she  never  saw,"  said 
Kyes.  ''She  never  would  if  she'd  known  it 
Avould  fall  into  the  hands  of  such  a  man  as  I 
am." 

'  "Yes  she  would,"  said  Andrew,  confidently. 
''You  are  just  the  one  she  would  have  chosen 
to  have  it. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  you  need  Christ." 

Kyes  dropped  his  head  and  sat  silent  for 
some  minutes  after  this  brief  reply.  At 
length  he  said,'  "  Suppose  I  do — what's  the 
use,  since  I  can't  find  him?  There's  no  Christ 
for  me.  Sergeant  Hall,  no  Christ  for  me/" 


224  ANDY    HALL. 


"  Why  ?  "  asked  Andrew  in  turn. 

"  Because  I  have  driven  him  away,"  replied 
Kyes.  "I  determined  3'ears  and  years  ago, 
that  I  wouldn't  believe  in  a  God,  in  heaven,  or 
iii  hell.  I  put  myself  out  of  the  company 
of  good  people,  and  kept  with  those  that 
were  as  bad  and  worse  thau  myself.  It  has 
been  a  long  time  since  I've  thought  of  God  or 
another  world,  but  the  prayer-meeting  brought 
up  a  strange  feeling  that  I  can't  drive  away, 
do  what  I  will.  I  didn't  shut  my  e^^es  last 
night  but  what  your  prayer  and  the  story  jou 
told  about  little  Roxy  would  come  into  my 
mind,  and  drive  the  sleep  away.  And  now 
I've  got  this  letter,  and  it  will  torment  me,  I 
know  it  will. 

"  Christ  does  not  always  leave  us  when  we 
leave  him,"  said  Andrew,  soothingly,  for  his 
companion  was  much  excited.  "  He  waits  and 
waits  with  patient  love  for  many  years,  until 
the  sinner  feels  his  need  of  him,  and  then  he 
hears  his  cry  for  mercy,  and  washes  away  his 
guilt  in  the  blood  that  was  shed  on  Calvary.'' 

Kyes  shook  his  head. 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AE3IY.     225 

''  I  wish  I  had  lived  a  different  life,"  he  said, 
sadly.  Then  I  wouldn't  be  so  ashamed  and 
afraid  to  ask  for  mercy;  as  it  ib,  I  can't  do 
it." 

"  The  greater  your  guilt  the  greater  is  the 
grace  that  can  save  you,  said  Andrew."  "  The 
Bible  says,  'Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet, 
they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow  ;  though  they  be 
red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool.'  Is  not 
there  hope  for  you  in  such  a  promise  as  this  ? 

"  '  The  dying  tliief  rejoiced  to  see 
That  fountain  in  his  day , 
And  there  may  I,  though  vile  as  he 
Wash  all  my  sins  away.' 

"  Jesus  Clirist  said  to  the  penitent  thief, 
'This  day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise,' 
and  he  is  'the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and 
forever.'  Only  believe  that  '  he  is  able  to 
save  to  the  uttermost,'  and  you  will  find  the 
peace  and  rest  you  so  much  need." 

Kyes  sat  motionless,  as  Andrew  went  on 
pointing  out  to  him  the  way  of  salvation. 
When  he  ceased  speaking,    the  strong   man 


226  AXDY   HALL, 


rose  to  his  feet,  and  without  uttering  a  word, 
went  away.  Andrew  looked  anxiously  after 
him,  until  he  was  lost  to  sight,  and  then  bow- 
ing his  head,  prayed  that  the  poor  prodigal 
might  yet  return  to  his  Father's  house. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

EAELY  two  years  had  passed  since 
the  commencement  of  the  war — years 
full  of  incident  and  toil  to  the  soldier 
— full  of  anxiety  and  pain  to  his 
friends  at  home.  How  the  voice  of 
weeping  has  gone  up  to  heaven's  gates  from 
bleedino-  hearts,  as  the  news  has  flashed  over 
the  mao:netic  wires,  of  battles  won  and  lost ; 
of  the  brave  men  marching  straight  up  the 
enemy's  batteries  to  be  shot  down  by  hun- 
dreds ;  of  the  brilliant  charges,  almost  un- 
equalled in  the  annals  of  history,  in  the  re- 
cord of  which  we  may  truthfully  use  those 
pathetic  words  of  Tennyson  : 

*'  Forsvard,  the  Light  Brigade! 
Was  there  a  man  dismay 'd? 
Not  tho'  the  soldier  knew 

Some  one  had  blundered  : 
Theirs  not  to  make  reply. 


22S  ANDY   HALL, 


Theirs  not  to  reason  "why. 
Theirs  but  to  do  and  die, 
Into  the  valley  of  death 

Rode  the  six  hundi-ed.'* 

Ah,  yes  !  there  has  been  Tveepmg  and  great 
mourning,  and  yet  who  has  not  felt  a  thrill  of 
pride  at  the  thought,  that  in  those  moments 
of  terrible  danger,  when — 

*•  Cannon  to  right  of  them, 
Cannon  to  left  of  them, 
Cannon  in  front  of  them 
Volley 'd  and  thunder'd;  "  — 

our  men  have  stood  firm  and  undismayed  in 
the  glorious  cause  for  which  they  offered  up 
their  lives. 

God  keep  them  steadfast  until  that  jubilant 
day,  when  rebellion  shall  be  crushed  down  to 
the  region  whence  it  sprung ;  when  in  deed 
and  in  truth  "  all  men  shall  be  free  and  equal ; " 
and  the  dear  old  flag  shall  float  for  and  wide 
over  North  and  South — its  glorious  stars  and 
stripes  no  longer  the  toy  of  slimy,  treacherous 
tongues,  but  the  joy  and  pride  of  a  united 
people. 


THE  mSSlON  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AIOIY. 


229 


1» 

Keaiiy  two  years  had  passed  since  Andrew 
enlisted,  and  although  he  had  been  in  many 
battles,  and  seen  much  toilsome  service,  yet 
he  had  passed  unharmed  through   all.     The 
words  of  the  Psalmist  uttered  by  Aunt  Becky 
as  a  prophesy,  seemed  in  his  case  to  be  liter- 
ally fulfilled,   "A  thousand  shall  fall  at  thy 
side,   and   ten  thousand    at    thy  right   hand, 
but  it  shall  not  come    nigh  thee."     He  had 
seen  the  ranks  of  his  regiment  thinned  out  un- 
til of  the  first  nine  hundred,  the  remnant  would 
not   number  three  score  men.     Many  times 
he  had  dashed   on  in  the  fight  over  the  fallen 
bodies  of  his  comrades,  and  at  night  returned 
to  the  ghastly  field,  to  bend  sadly  and  with 
tears  over  their  dead  faces.     He  had  prayed 
beside  the  cot  of  the  dying,  and  moistened  the 
dry  lips   of  the    wounded;    he   had   written 
many  a  letter   of    sympathy  to  the   distant 
friends  of  those  whose  eyes  he  had  closed  in 
their  last  sleep,  and  to  many  sufi'ering  ones  he 
had  spoken  of  Jesus,  the  Saviour  of  sinners, 
the    Hope  of  the  hopeless,  the    strength  of 
the  weak. 


230  ANDY   HALL, 

O,  who,  but  Him  who  knovreth  all  things, 
can  estimate  the  value  of  such  a  life  as  this  ?  • 

Andrew's  letters  to  his  mother  and  other 
friends  at  home,  were  full  of  hope  and  courage. 
In  times  of  deepest  depression,  when,  in 
addition  to  the  reverses  of  our  army,  Northern 
men  with  Southern  opinions,  were  maligning 
the  administration,  and  doing  all  in  their 
power  to  discourage  the  soldiers,  and  prevent 
enlistments,  while  they  prated  of  peace  which 
was  impossible,  the  patriotic  spirit  of  our 
Christian  soldier  rose  above  it  all ;  lirm  and 
strong  in  its  integrity.  The  prayer  oftenest 
on  his  lips  and  in  his  heart  in  behalf  of  the 
country  he  loved,  and  for  which  he  was  v.  ill- 
ing  to  die,  was  this  : 

"  God  of  peace  !  send  peace  to  this  people 
when  we  are  fit  to  receive  it ;  l)ut  first,  in  thy 
mercy,  send  Freedom.  And  if  it  must  be 
bought  at  the  price  of  thousands  more  of 
precious  lives,  O,  God !  stay  not  thy  hand 
because  of  the  cry  of  those  who  sufier,  but 
carry  on  thy  work  until  we  are  purged  from 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  m  THE  AEMY.     231 

the  curse  that  has  brought  this  distress  upon 
us!" 

But  earnest  as  he  was  for  the  prosecution  of 
the  war,  Andrew's  thoughts  often  reverted  to 
his  home,  and  he  looked  forward  with  eager 
hope  to  the  time  when  he  would  be  there 
again.  The  Sunday  School  and  church  ser- 
vices, the  little  prayer  meeting  in  Aunt 
Becky's  cottage,  the  companionship  of  such 
friends  as  Mrs.  Laurie,  Mr.  Wallace,  and  the 
lovely  family  of  Mr.  Kent,  in  whose  regard 
he  held  almost  the  place  of  a  younger  brother,, 
the  fond  affection  of  his  mother  and  3Irs. 
Bayley,  were  so  attractive  to  his  imagination, 
that  he  was  sometimes  forced  to  drive  them 
from  his  mind  lest  they  should  unman  him. 

It  was  on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Freder- 
icksburg. The  dangerous  work  of  throwing 
the  pontoon  bridges  across  the  Eappahanock 
was  completed,  and  the  great  body  of  the 
army  was  to  cross  early  in  the  morning  of  the 
following  day.  Andrew  Hall  was  busy  making 
his  final  arrangements,  before  lying  down  for 


232  AXDY    HALL, 


a  few  hours  rest,  when  he  was  interrupted  by 
the  entrance  of  Watt  Kyes.  Several  weeks 
had  passed  since  the  two  had  conversed  to- 
gether, and  although  Kyes  was  very  constant 
in  his  attendance  at  the  little  prayer  meetings, 
which  were  now  held  regularly  two  evenings 
of  each  week,  Andrew  had  felt  for  some  time, 
that  he  wished  to  avoid  speaking  of  his  own 
feelings,  as  he  had  once  so  freely  done.  He 
was  somewhat  surprised,  therefore,  at  this 
late  visit.  Kyes  came  up  to  the  box  on  which 
lay  paper,  pens  and  ink,  and  placed  a  small 
package  upon  it,  saying  abruptly, 

"  If  I'm  shot  to-morrow.  Sergeant  Hall,  and 
you  live,  that  is  to  go  to  Annie  Todd,  of  Bos- 
ton, and  I  depend  upon  you  to  see  that  she 
gets  it.  It  is  a  letter  I  wrote  to  her  with  my 
own  hand,  and  a  little  ring  and  a  box  that  I 
cut  and  carved  with  my  jack-knife.  I'd  have 
got  3'ou  to  write  the  letter  for  me,  but  poor 
as  it  is,  I  thought  she  would  be  better  pleased 
to  have  my  own  writing  and  spelling.  You'll 
see  that  she  has  it,  wont  vou  ?  " 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAE  IN  THE  AEIVIY.     233 


"Yes,  but  I  hope  you  will  have  an  opportu- 
nity to  send  it  yourself,  Kyes,"  said  Andrew. 

"  Perhaps  I  will,  but  I  wanted  to  make 
sure  of  it,  for  I  mean  that  child  shall  know 
what  she's  done  for  me,  by  her  little  letter." 
As  he  spoke,  Kyes  turned  to  leave,  but  An- 
drew stopped  him.  Laying  his  hand  upon  the 
broad  shoulder,  he  said  kindly, 

"  And  if  you  should  fall,  I,  too,  should  like 
to  know  with  what  feelings  you  went  into  the 
battle,  and  whether  you  were  ready  to  go?" 

"/  believe  I  am,'^  said  Kyes,  with  grave 
emphasis.  "  I  couldn't  begin  to  tell  you  what 
I  have  suffered  in  my  mind  the  last  four 
weeks ;  it  has  been  awful,  but  for  two  or 
three  da}'s  the  weight  has  been  gone.  I  don't 
feel  anything  like  peace  or  joy  as  some  of  the 
men  talk  of  in  the  meetings,  but  I  beheve  that 
Jesus  Christ  can  save  even  me,  and  I  am  will- 
ing to  trust  myself  to  him.  I  wish  I  could  do 
something  to  prove  that  I  trust  him." 

"  The  best  thing  to  prove  it,  is  to  really  be- 
lieve that  he  is  able  to  save  you,"  said  An- 


234  AXDY    HALL, 


drew  ;  •  "  that  is  what  he  requii'es  first  of  all* 
I  am  glad  that  you  are  willing  to  trust  him," 
he  added,  as  Kyes  again  turned  to  go,  ''and  I 
hope  your  life  will  be  spared  that  you  may 
labor  for  Christ  in  this  his  earthly  vineyard 
many  years." 

A  silent  bow  was  the  response  to  this,  but 
Andrew  saw  the  stem  lips  quiver,  and  knew 
that  it  was  no  want  of  feeling  that  kept  him 
from  speaking. 

On  Saturday,  December  13th,  1862,  the 
engagement  which  cost  us  so  dear,  commenced 
in  terrible  earnest.  We  will  not  pause  to  re- 
count the  scenes  of  that  day,  for  they  are  in- 
delibly stamped  on  the  memory  of  thousands, 
while  thousands  more  shudder  and  weep  at 
the  mention  of  the  battle  before  Fredericks- 
burg. Through  the  long  hours  of  the  day, 
until  late  in  the  afternoon,  Andrew  paused 
not,  though  shot  and  shell  fell  fast  around  him, 
and  the  wounded  and  dj^ing  lay  at  his  very 
feet.  He  and  one  other,  a  stalwart  lumber- 
man from  the  pine  forests  of  Maine,  kept  an 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AE:iIY.     235 


open  mouthed  rebel  battery  silent  frOm  noon 
until  four  o'clock.  With  watchful  eyes  fixed 
upon  that  single  point,  their  rifles  never  failed 
to  arrest  the  hand  that  was  put  forth  to  fire, 
ere  its  purpose  was  accomplished.  It  was 
terrible  thus  to  send  one  soul  after  another 
into  eternity,  but  who,  in  the  excitement  of 
such  a  scene,  when  every  nerve  is  strung  to 
its  utmost  tension,  who  stops  to  dwell  upon 
this  thought  ?  It  is  laid  away  for  the  quiet 
hour  when  in  silence  and  alone,  all  painful 
memories  return  to  sadden  the  spirit,  and 
moisten  the  eyes  that  are  unused  to  weep. 

"  They  tell  me  you  are  bullet-proof.  Hall, 
and  I  begin  to  believe  it,"  said  Andrew's  com- 
panion, as  he  was  charging  his  rifie.  "  You 
have  never  got  so  much  as  a  scratch  yet,  to 
prove  that  you  have  been  in  battle  ;  and  to-day 
the  shot  and  shells  have  been  flying  like  hail 
close  to  us,  but  they  don't  touch  you.  What 
is  the  secret  of  your  good  luck  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  secret,  and  my  good  luck  is  the 
providence  of  God.     I  have  no  fear  of  death, 


236  ANDY     H-ILL, 


for  whether  it  comes  now,  or  years  hence,  it 
will  only  send  me  to  my  home  in  heaven." 
This  reply  was  yet  on  Andrew's  lips,  when  a 
bullet  from  the  rifle  of  a  sharpshooter,  who 
was  concealed  in  the  woods,  entered  his 
shoulder  just  above  the  breast,  and  without  a 
groan  he  fell  to  the  ground. 

"  "N^Tiere  is  God's  providence  now  ?  "  cried 
the  lumberman,  bending  over  him  and  raising 
his  head. 

"  Over  you  and  me,"  whispered  Andrew,  as 
the  blood  gushed  from  his  white  lips.  "  His 
will  be  done." 

Tenderly,  at  the  command  of  their  Captain, 
to  whom  Andrew  had  endeared  himself  by 
many  little  acts  of  thoughtful  kindness,  four 
of  his  comrades  bore  him  from  the  field. 
Watt  Kyes,  at  his  head,  moistened  his  lips 
with  cool  water  and  gazed  down  into  the  white, 
peaceful  face,  until  for  the  tears  that  would 
come,  he  could  gaze  no  longer. 

"  He  is  a  Christian,  if  ever  there  was  one  !" 
said  the  lumberman  warmly.  "  It  is  a  pity  to 
lose  him  ! " 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  ARMY.      237 

"We  wont  lose  him,"  cried  Kyes,  sharply, 
"I'll  watch  him  day  and  uight.  He  shall  not 
die  " — then  pausing  in  his  impulsive  speech, 
he  added,  softly,  "  unless  it  is  the  will  of 
God." 


CHAPTEE  XXn. 

fT  was  not  the  will  of  God  that  his  young 
servant  should  die  at  this  time.       For 
^=^^  ten  days  he  lay  in  a  hospital  tent,  hov- 
y^^    ering  between   life    and   death,    while 
%^     Watt    Ka^cs,    who   watched   over   him 
with  a  woman's  tenderness  and  devotion ,  fear- 
ed that  everj^  hour  would  be  his  last. 

"You  have  saved  his  life,  Kyes,"  the  Sur- 
geon said,  on  the  morning  of  the  tenth  day, 
as  they  were  preparing  to  remove  him  to 
Washington ;  and  the  change  wrought  b}-  the 
Spirit  of  God  on  that  hard  heart,  was  never 
more  clearl}^  shown  than  hy  his  earnest  reply  ; 
"Doctor,  I  have  done  what  I  could,  for  he  has 
done  more  for  me  than  I  can  ever  repaj^, 
but — "  and  here  he  raised  his  deep-set  gray 
eyes  to  hea^ven,  "  The  One  above  has  saved 
him.'' 


THE  MISSIOX  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  ARMY.     239 


It  was  an  agreeable  change  from  the  hospi- 
tal tent,  with  its  poor  accommodations,  and 
unsuitable  food,  to  the  comforts  and  conve- 
niences of  the  hospital  at  Washington.  An- 
di'ew  was  not  yet  able  to  speak,  but  he  smiled 
in  reply  to  Kyes'  expression  of  satisfaction 
and  pleasure,  as  he  handed  him  a  large  bunch 
of  purple  grapes,  and  for  the  sake  of  that 
smile  the  poor  fellow  would  have  dared  lire 
and  flood,  and  emptied  his  pockets  of  their 
last  penny. 

The  hours  and  days  of  pain  and  weakness 
which  followed,  were  not  without  their  bless- 
ing to  the  young  soldier,  and  some  of  the 
richest  experiences  of  his  life  were  gahied, 
while  he  lay  upon  his  cot,  too  feeble  to  raise 
his  hand  to  his  head.  He  had  time  to  reflect 
upon  the  past,  and  to  review  the  way  in  which 
he  had  walked  hitherto.  The  thorny  and 
tangled  paths  of  his  boyhood,  when  not  one 
ray  of  light  broke  through  the  clouds  of  igno- 
rance and  sin  that  enveloped  him  ;  the  smooth, 
straiglit  way  —  smooth,  because  straight  — in 


240  AXDY    HALL, 


"VN^hich  he  was  now  travelling,  with  Jesus  for 
his  Guide,  and  heaven  for  his  home,  often 
presented  themselves  to  his  mind,  and  never 
had  the  contrast  seemed  greater  than  now. 
Sometimes  he  thought  with  a  sigh  of  the  high 
hopes  he  had  cherished  of  future  usefulness  in 
the  Master's  vineyard  ;  must  he  give  them  up  ? 
surely,  if  by  so  doing  he  could  serve  God  bet- 
ter, and  yet  it  was  hard.  It  was  a  painful 
lesson  to  learn,  but  he  learned  it  at  last,  and 
could  say  from  his  heart  in  the  words  of  Jean 
Paul,— 

"  Suffering  is  my  gain  ?    I  bow 
To  my  heavenly  Father's  will. 
And  receive  it  hush'd  and  still, 
Suffering  is  my  worship  now." 

One  of  the  saddest  trials  incident  upon  An- 
drew's present  position,  was  to  be  compelled 
to  lie  speechless  while  so  many  were  dj'ing 
around  him  with  no  hope  of  another  and  a 
better  life.  It  would  have  been  worth  all  his 
Bufleriug,  could  he  have  been  permitted  to 
speak  to  them  of  the  Friend  of  sinners,  and 
direct  their  wandering  thoughts  to  the  home 


THE  IvnSSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  AEISIY.     241 

in  heaven.  The  Chaplain  passed  through  the 
ward  every  morning,  with  a  kind  word  and 
a  smile  for  each  sufferer,  but  the  brief  inter- 
view seemed  to  accomplish  little,  where  so 
much  of  instruction,  warning  and  exhortation 
was  needed.  Day  after  day,  as  one  and 
another  was  carried  out  dead,  and  as  Andrew 
pondered  over  their  careless  life  now  end- 
ed, and  their  prayerless  death  opening  to 
them  the  gates  of  eternity,  it  was  more  than 
he  could  calmly  endure. 

One  incident  peculiarly  affected  hun.  Very 
near  his  own  cot,  lay  two  men,  one  of  whom 
was  rapidly  sinking  imder  inflammation  caus- 
ed by  the  amputation  of  a  limb.  He  had 
clung  to  life  with  the  utmost  tenacity,  insist- 
ino-  that  he  should  recover,  notwithstanding 
the  assurance  of  the  surgeon  that  his  case  was 
hopeless,  and  it  was  not  until  the  death-damp 
was  on  his  cheek,  and  every  breath  a  gasp, 
that  he  realized  his  condition.  And  now  he 
began  to  think  of  the  world  to  come.  Dark 
indeed,  was  the  valley  of  shadows,  for  he  had 


242  AXDY    HALL, 


no  Shepherd  on  whom  to  lean ;  no  kmd  voice 
to  whisper,  "  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid  !  " 

With  a  groan  of  anguish  he  turaed  to  his 
companion  in  suffering,  and  said  faintly, 

"  Clark  !  Clark  !  I'm  dying — don't  you  see, 
I'm  dying  !     What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Clark,  himself  an  irreligious  man,  made  no 
reply. 

"  Wliat  shall  I  do?''  repeated  the  poor  fel- 
low, with  terrible  emphasis.  "  Can't  you  say 
a  prayer,  Clark?  O,  I  can't  die  without  a 
prayer." 

"I  don't  know  how  to  pray,  Holbrook. 
Pray  for  yourself,  can't  you  ?  " 

"Xo,  O,  no,  I  cannot.  Clark!  do  try  to 
pray  for  me — for  I'm — dying  !    I'm  dying  !  " 

"  Don't  you  know  the  Lord's  prayer?" 

"  Once,  when  I  Avas  a  little  boy  I  knew  it. 
My  mother  taught  it  to  me  years  ago,  but  I 
can't  remember  it  now.  I  wish  I  had  cared 
more  for  such  things,  but  I  didn't  think  there 
would  ever  be  a  time  when  I  should  need  them 
so  much.  O,  if  some  one  would  but  just  pray 
for  my  poor  soul ! " 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  APv:srr.    243 


"Try  if  you  can  remember  the  words,"  said 
Clark,  "  perhaps  they'll  come  to  you,  if  you 
begin." 

The  dying  man  groaned  aloud,  then  there 
was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  then  he  said, 
faintly,  "  Our  Father,  which  art  in  hea.ven," 
another  pause  followed,  during  which  he  was 
trying  to  recall  the  petitions  of  that  long-for- 
gotten prayer,  to  comfort  him  in  this  hour  of 
his  extremity. 

"Hallowed — be — thy  name."  Slower  and 
more  faintly  came  each  word  from  those 
trembling  lips.  "  Thy  kingdom — thy  king- 
dom— come  :  thy  will  be  done  on  earth — as — 
it — is — in — heaven — "  his  voice  ceased,  and 
for  many  minutes,  Andrew,  who  listened 
and  wept,  thought  the  poor  fellow  was  gone, 
but  suddenly  he  spoke  again  in  a  clearer  tone 
than  before,  and  the  words  he  uttered  were 
these,  "Thine  is  the  kingdom,  the  glory,  and 
the  power,  forever.     Amen  !     Amen  !  " 

Thus  died  the  poor  soldier,  with  the  prayer 
of  his  boyhood  on  his  lips.       He  had  put  it 


244  AXDY   HALL, 


away  from  him  while  God  crowned  his  life 
with  health  and  vigor,  but  he  could  not  die 
without  it.  God  is  all  merciful,  and  who 
would  dare  say  that  he  refused  to  listen  to  the 
cry  of  this  fearful  soul  ?  But  ah  !  how  sad  to 
put  off  the  thought  of  him  until  the  last  hour, 
and  then  turn  to  him  with  the  bare  remnant 
of  a  wasted  Ufe  ! 

It  was  many  days  before  Andrew  was  able 
to  dismiss  this  painful  scene  from  his  mind : 
the  despairing  cry  of  the  poor  man ;  "What 
shall  I  do  !  I'm  dying  !  I'm  dying  !"  haunt- 
ed him  by  day,  and  made  his  dreams  terrible. 

There  was  but  one  bright  spot  in  the  dark 
picture,  and  it  wa^  this  :  when  the  Chaplain 
passed  through  the  ward  on  the  morning  fol- 
lowing Holbrook's  death,  and  paused  by  his 
empty  cot  to  say,  "poor  fellow  !  he  is  gone," 
Clark  called  him  to  his  side,  and  with  deep 
emotion,  said — 

"Will  you  tell  me,  sir,  how  to  pray?  I 
never  thought  how  much  I  should  need  a 
prayer  until  he  died,  last  night." 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARMY.     245 


Andrew  listened  to  catch  the  Chaplam's  re- 
ply, but  could  not.  Whatever  it  was,  it  only 
deepened  the  gloom  on  the  dark  brow  of  the 
wounded  man,  still  it  was  some  comfort  to 
know  that  he  was  beginning  to  see  his  danger 
and  his  need. 

As  soon  as  he  was  strong  enough  to  be  al- 
lowed to  speak,  Andrew  sent  a  message  by 
Watt  Kyes  to  Clark. 

"Tell  him,"  he  said  "that  I  overheard  his 
conversation  with  Holbrook  the  night  of  his 
death,  and  that  I  hope  he  will  remember  that 
Jesus  has  told  us  how  to  pray.  '  Ask,  and  it 
shall  be  given  you ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find ; 
knock  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you ; '  and 
tell  him,  Kyes,  that  I  have  been  praying  for 
him  ever  since  that  night." 

Kyes  carried  the  message  faithfully,  and 
lingered  a  few  minutes  by  the  cot,  talking  in 
a  low  voice.  When  he  returned  it  was  with 
a  saddened  face.  In  reply  to  Andrew's  in- 
quiries, he  said, 

"  He  isn't  going  to  live  long,  and  he  don't 


246  AXDY    HALL, 

feel  ready  to  die,  but  he  wanted  me  to  thank 
you  for  your  kindness  and  say  that  he  hopes 
he  has  learned  to  pray.  He  wanted  to  see 
his  wife  and  children  once  more,  and  die  at 
the  old  homestead  in  Yermout,  hut  he  will 
never  live  to  go  from  the  hospital.  He  sa3's 
that  he  believes  his  soul  is  safe,  for  he  has 
given  it  up  to  Jesus  Christ  to  take  care  of." 

This  was  all  Andrew  ever  learned  of  poor 
Clark's  spiritual  state,  for  that  night  he  died. 

Mouths  passed  away.  The  winter  was 
over,  and  spring  had  returned  with  its  balm^^ 
breezes  and  delicate  flowers,  to  gladden  the 
hearts  of  the  sick,  and  bring  to  the  sorrowing 
bright  thoughts  of  the  resurrection. 

Andrew,  contrarj-  to  the  expectation  of  the 
Surgeon,  slowly  regained  his  strength.  The 
bidl  had  never  been  extracted  from  his  chest ; 
it  was  supposed  to  l)e  lodged  in  the  lung, 
and  although  he  was  troubled  T^•ith  a  cough, 
and  some  difficulty  in  breathing,  yet  he  be- 
gan to  talk  hopefully  of  home,  for  he  longed 
to  be  there  once  more.     The  last  few  days  of 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARIVIY.      247 


his  stay  in  the  hospital,  while  he  was  waiting 
for  his  discharge,  were  among  the  most  irk- 
some that  he  had  known.  Their  monotony 
was  broken  only  by  the  visits  of  a  little  blue- 
eyed  girl  of  some  six  years,  who  came  regu- 
larly every  morning  with  a  basket  of  beauti- 
ful cut  flowers  "for  the  poor  soldiers."  Like 
a  fairy  she  would  flit  from  cot  to  cot,  leaving 
a  rosebud,  a  hly,  or  a  sprig  of  mignonette,  on 
each. pillow,  with  a  smile  that  seemed  svreeter 
than  the  flowery. 

Andrew  was  a  particular  favorite  with  the  lit- 
tle lad}^,  from  th$  first.  She  lingered  longest 
beside  his  cot,  and  amused  him  with  her  pret- 
ty prattle.  Xow  she  would  tell  him  how  blue 
the  sky  was,  without  a  cloud  in  it,  and  now 
hovv"  green  the  grass  looked  on  the  law^n  at 
home  ;  but  her  thoughts  were  most  occupied 
with  a  bird's  nest  that  was  in  the  process  of 
hrniidiug  on  the  branch  of  an  elm  tree  close 
by  her  mamma's  vrindow.  Every  morning 
she  reported  the  progress  made  since  the 
previous  day,  until  the  three  little  speckled 


248  AKDY   HALL, 


eggs  were  deposited  on  their   bed  of  moss, 
when  her  delisrht  knew  no  bounds. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  effect  that 
the  visits  of  this  sweet  child  had  upon  the 
soldiers.  It  was  better  than  all  the  medicines 
and  restoratives  of  the  nurse  and  physician. 
She  seemed  to  bring  the  sunshine  with  her, 
and  when  she  went  away,  more  than  one  fer- 
vent "  God  bless  you  !  "  followed  her. 


CHAPTEE  XXm. 

E  will  not  attempt  to  describe  An- 
drew's return  home,  or  his  meeting 
with  his  mother  and  Mrs.  Bailey. 
'^^  The  tears  of  thankfulness,  the  fond 
caress,  the  clinging  embrace,  the  dis- 
connected scraps  of  eager  talk,  who  has  not 
known  the  joy  of  them,  and  who  has  not  felt 
that  they  were  sacred  to  the  dear  home  circle. 
As  soon  as  it  was  known  that  Andrew  had 
arrived,  many  of  his  friends  came  to  bid  him 
welcome.  Among  these  Aunt  Becky  and  old 
Rosy  were  first.  They  hobbled  into  the 
sitting-room,  arm  in  arm,  and  advanced  to 
Andrew's  couch  with  shining  faces  and  ex- 
tended hands. 

"  Bless  the  Lord  that  I've  lived  to  see  this 
day,"  cried  Aunt  Becky.  "  I've  had  my 
doubts  once  or  twice,  but  for  the  most  part, 

248 


250  AXDY    HALL, 


I've  'spectcd  it ; "  and  llosy  wiped  her  e^'es 
and  tried  to  smile,  as  Andrew,  raising  him- 
self from  the  cushions,  drew  chairs  for  them 
to  sit  down  close  beside  him ;  but  the  smile 
changed  to  a  flood  of  tears,  and  throwing 
her  apron  up  over  her  face,  she  sobbed  out, 

"I  can't  help  it,  child,  I  can't  help  it,  and 
I  must  have  vnj  cry  out." 

"I'm  not  going  to  look  so  any  longer, 
Eosy,"  said  Andrew,  cheerfully.  "lam  much 
better,  and  now  that  I  am  at  home,  and  have 
mother  and  so  many  dear  friends  to  take  care 
of  me,  I  think  I  will  soon  be  quite  well  and 
strong,  and  able  to  attend  Aunt  Becky's 
pray  er-me  e  ting . " 

Rosy  shook  her  head  ominously,  but  Aunt 
Becky  smiled : 

"That's  right,"  she  said,  "there's  nothing 
like  keeping  up  good  courage,  and  trusting  in 
-the  Lord.  You  do  look  pale  and  poor  enough, 
Andrew,  but  I  <lare  say  you're  going  to  get 
well.  When  they  told  me  you  was  wound- 
ed," she  went  on,    "  I  felt  as  if   a  ball  had 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IN  THE  ARMY.     251 


struck  right  through  my  heart ;  but  I  kept 
praying  and  praying  that  God  would  spare 
your  life,  so's  you  might  come  home  ;  and  I'd 
have  been  glad  to  have  had  him  take  me  in- 
stead, 'cause  I'm  an  old  withered  branch  of 
no  'count,  you  know.  Well,  in  the  course  of 
two  or  three  days  I  begun  to  feel  better  and 
more  reconciled,  for  I  thought  perhaps  the 
Lord  had  something  more  important  for  you 
to  do  in  heaven  than  on  earth,  and  in  that 
case  you'd  ought  to  go,  and  just  as  soon  as  I 
thought  that,  then  it  seemed  'pressed  on  my 
mind,  that  you  wasn't  going  to  die,  till  3^ou'd 
preached  the  gospel  to  the  poor,  like  as  you 
always  wanted  to  do,  and  I've  had  faith  to 
believe  that  ever  since,  and  I  believe  it  now." 
"  I  hope  I  am  resigned  to  the  will  of  God, 
whatever  it  is,  concerning  me,"  said  Andrew 
seriously.  "If  my  life  is  spared,  I  shall  try 
to  study  as  soon  as  I  am  well  enough ;  but  if 
otherwise,  surely  I  ought  to  rejoice  that  I  am 
so  early  permitted  to  enter  into  the  rest  of 
Heaven." 


152  ANDY     HALL. 


"  Yes,"  said  Aunt  Becky,  wiping  lier  eyes, 
"  but  it  is  very  strange  that  sometimes  God 
takes  away  the  youngest,  and  brightest,  and 
best,  and  lenves  poor,  feeble  old  folks  like  me 
and  Eosy,  that  can't  do  much  good  to  any- 
body ;  but  I  'spose  we'll  understand  all  such 
m^^sterious  things  when  we  get  to  the  heaven- 
ly Canaan." 

B}^  this  time  Rosy  had  recovered  her  self- 
possession,  and  was  able  to  look  calmly  in 
Andrew's  face.  "  I  used  to  think  about  you 
a  sight,"  she  said,  "  specially  when  I  heard 
there's  fighting.  But  there's  one  passage  in 
the  Bible  that  you  read  one  night  in  the  meet- 
ing, that  kept  a  coming  into  my  mind,  and 
it  seemed  kind  of  comfortable  to  me.  Don't 
you  remember  when  the  king  of  Syria  sent  a 
great  host  to  the  city  where  'Lisha,  the  proph- 
et was,  how  'Lisha's  servant  was  frightened 
because  there's  so  man}^  of  'em,  and  the  Lord 
opened  his  eyes  so't  he  saw  the  nx)untain  was 
full  of  horses  and  chariots  of  fire  all  round  the 
prophet  to  take  care  of  him  ?     Well,  I  thought 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAE  IN  THE  ARMY.     253 

if  the  Lord  sent  horses  an'  chariots  to  take 
care  of  'Lisha,  he'd  do  the  same  thing  for  you 
there  in  the  ai-my." 

"^  Why  yes,  Rosy,  interrupted  aunt  Becky, 
"  and  didn't  ye  never  think  of  the  other  place 
where  it  says,  'the  angel  of  the  Lord  encamp- 
eth  round  about  them  that  fear  him,  and  deliv- 
ereth  them,'  and  then  '  a  thousand  shall  tall  at 
thy  side  and  ten  thousand  at  thy  right  hand, 
but  it  shall  not  come  nigh  thee?'" 

"  That  was  what  you  repeated  "to  me  the 
ni«-ht  before  I  went  away,  aunt  Becky,"  said 
Andrew  ;  "  how  many  times  I  have  thought  of 
it  just  before  going  into  battle.  And  the 
Lord  did  stand  by  me,  and  kept  me  from 
harm,  until  he  saw  that  I  needed  just  this 
kind  of  trial ;  so  I  really  think,  dear  friends, 
that  I  have  great  reason  for  gratitude,  even 
while  I  he  here  so  faint  and  weak." 

It  was  several  days  before  Andrew  was 
strong  enough  to  go  out  to  walk  or  ride,  but 
never  was  invaUd  so  cared  for  and  remem- 
bered.    Mrs.  Laurie  called  almost  daily  with 


254  AXDY    ILVLL, 

bunches  of  flowers  and  baskets  of  fruit,  and 
other  delicacies  to  tempt  his  capricious  ap- 
petite ;  Mr.  Wallace  spent  many  hours  by  his 
couch,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kent,  with  Lily, 
now  almost  a  young  lad}^  came  often  to  see 
him  ;  but  Miss  Hilary  never  came  with  them. 
She  had  passed  "  over  the  river,"  and  was  now 
singing  among  the  shining  ones  in  the  better 
land.  Thc}^  spoke  of  her  with  subdued  voices 
and  tearful  eyes,  but  they  mourned  not  as 
those  without  hope,  for  they  knew  the  separ- 
ation was  only  for  a  little  while,  and  that  in 
the  life  to  come  they  would  meet  never  to 
part  again. 

But  little  remains  to  be  added  to  the  his- 
tory which  we  have  followed  thus  tkr.  An- 
drew's wound  had  disabled  him  from  again 
entering  the  service,  and  he  obtained  an  hon- 
oraljle  discharge.  He  is  not  shut  out,  how- 
ever, from  the  prospect  of  an  active,  useful 
life  as  a  Christian.  He  is  studying  as  dili- 
gently as  his  enfeebled  health  ^vill  permit,  for 
the  ministry,  but  he  will  not  wait  until  his 


THE  MISSION  SCHOLAR  IX  THE  AEMT.     255' 


preparatory  studies  are  completed,  before 
eu'gaging  in  the  work  that  he  loves.  In 
Aunt  Becky's  prayer-meeting  and  the  mission 
school,  endeared  to  his  heart  by  so  many 
precious  memories,  he  devotes  some  of  his 
best  thoughts  and  most  earnest  prayers.  To 
the  home  of  the  poor,  the  suffering  and  the 
wretched,  he  is  a  frequent  and  ever  w^elcome 
visitor ;  to  the  degraded  drunkard,  no  matter 
how  low  he  is  fallen,  he  holds  out  a  brother's 
hand,  and  by  words  of  sympathy  and  en- 
couragement, seeks  to  raise  him  to  a  better 
life.  These  labors,  undertaken  for  Christ's 
dear  sake,  are  abundantly  blessed  by  him  in 
the  reformation  and  conversion  of  sinners, 
while  in  Andi-ew's  ovm  heart  the  flame  of  love 
and  devotion  burns  daily  more  and  more 
bright.  He  has  consecrated  himself  to  the 
service  of  God,  and  therein  finds. joy,  rest  and 
peace,  far  above  and  beyond  the  gift  of  this 
world ;  v»hile  for  the  future,  the  one  prayer  he 
offers  is  in  the  beautiful  words  of  ^Vhitmarsh  : 


256  •      AXDY    HALL. 


**  I  ask  no  heaven  till  earth  be  Thine, 
Nor  glory-crown  while  work  of  mine 
Remaineth  here  :  when  earth  shall  shine 

Among  the  stars, 
Her  sins  wiped  out,  her  captives  free. 
Her  voice  a  music  unto  thee. 
For  crown,  new  work  give  thou  to  me  — 

Lord  here  am  I !  " 


CATALOGUE   OF   BOOKS 

PUBLISHED  A.:SD  FOR  SALE  BY 

HENRY     HOYT, 

No.  9  Comhill,  Boston, 


PICTORIAL  CONCORDANCE  of  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, with  Chronological  Tables,  etc.  By  Rev. 
John  Brown ....  1  00 

AHLLENNIAL  EXPERIENCE,  or  the  Will  of  God 
known  and  done  from  moment  to  moment.  Illus- 
trated from  the  Bible  and  the  lives  of  eminent 
Christians 1  25 

THE  HIGHER  CHRISTLIN  LIFE.  A  volume  of  re- 
ligious experience.  Illustrated  by  sketches  from 
history  and  from  life 1  25 

THE  HARVEST  WORK  OF  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT, 
Illustrated  in  the  Evangelist  Labors  of  Rev.  Edw. 
Payson  Hammond,  in  Great  Britam  and  Amer- 
ica.   By  Rev.  P.  C.  Headley 1  00 


CATALOGUE  OF  BOOKS. 


SONGS,  for  Social  and  Public  Worship  ;  containing 
over  300  choice  tunes,  and  1039  hymns —  the  best 
work  extant 1  GO 

THE  STORY  OF  A  POCKET  BIBLE.  An  autobio- 
graphy of  the  book  itself,  with  ten  splendid  Illus- 
trations      95 

THE  OLD  RED  HOUSE.  By  the  author  of  Capt. 
Russel's  Watchword,  Ellen  Dacre,  etc.  One  of  the 
ablest  productions  ot  this  popular  writer.     Illust.     95 

BERN :  CE ,  The  Farmer's  Daughter 85 

THE  MODEL  MOTHER,  Or,  The  Mother's  Mis- 
sion. A  Narrative  Work  of  uncommon  interest 
and  power.    1 2mo     Illustrated. .  = 80 

ONLY  A  PAUPER.  A  work  of  graphic  interest. 
Illustrated 80 

OPPOSITE  THE  JAIL .  By  the  author  of  the  Child 
Angel,  etc.  A  narrative  work  of  great  power  and 
interest.     1 2mo.     Illustrated SO 

PALISSY,  THE  HUGUENOT  POTTER.  A  Historic 
Tale.     12mo.    Illustrated 80 

CAPT.  RUSSEL'S  WATCHWORD.  Combining  rare 
elements  of  interest  and  power.  A  book  for  boys, 
Fully  illustrated.     12mo. 80 

STRAIGHT  FORWARD,  or  Walking  in  the  Light. 
By  Lucy  E.  Guernsey,  author  of  Irish  Amy,  Ready 
Work,  etc.      Illustrated ..- 80 


CATALOGUE  OF  BOOKS.  3 

WORKING  AND  WINNING,  or  the  Deaf  Boy's 
Triumph 80 

CLIMBING  THE  MOUNTAIN,  or  how  I  rose  in  the 
woi'ld.  By  the  author  of  (.'Id  Red  House,  Capt. 
Russel's  Watchword,  Elleu  Dacre,  etc.  Illustrated.    80 

ELLEN  DACRE,  or  Life  at  Aunt  Hester's.      By  the 
I       author  of  Capt.  Russel's  Watchword.    Fully  illust.    80 
I  SEQUEL  TO  TIM,  THE  SCISSORS-GRINDER.    By 

i       Mrs.  Madeline  Leslie.      Beautifully  illustrated 80 

I  TALES  FROM  THE  BIBLE.  First  Series.  By  Rev. 
I  Wni.  M.  Thayer,  author  of  Poor  House  to  the  Pul- 
j  pit.  Poor  Boy  and  Merchant  Prince.  Beautifully 
j       illustrated 80 

THE  LOST  WILL.  By  Mrs.  A.  E.  Porter.  This  work 
had  its  origin  in  facts  which  took  place  in  New 
England.      Illustrated 80 

NOONDAY.  By  the  author  of  Capt.  Russel's  Watch- 
word, and  the  Old  Red  House 7o 

TIM  THE  SCISSOR-GRINDER,  or  Loying  Christ 
and  Serving  Him.      Illustrated 75 

PIETY  AND  PRIDE.    An  historic  tale.    Hlustrated.     75 

WILL  COLLINS,  or  the  Way  to  the  Pit.  By  Miss 
H.  B.  McKeever,  author  of  Edith's  ]\Iinistry,  Sun- 
shine, etc.    Illustrated 75 

THE  ORGAN  GRINDER,  or  Struggles  after  Holi- 
ness. By  Mrs.  Madeline  Leslie,  author  of  Tim  the 
Scissors-Grinder,  Sequel  to  Tim,  &c.     Illustrated.    75 


CATALOGUE  OF  BOOKS. 


THE  SOLDIER'S  RETURN.     Illus 70 

ANTOINETTE.  The  original  of  the  Child  Angel. 
By  the  author  of  Opposite  the  Jail.     Illustrated. . .     75 

THE  DRUNKARD'S  DAUGHTER.  By  the  author 
of  Ellen  Dacre,  Capt.  Russel's  Watchword,  Old 
Red  Houses  Blind  Ethan,  etc.     Illustrated  70 

LELIA  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS.  A  splendid 
Juvenile,  with  ninety-four  illustrations 65 

DAISEY  DEANE.  By  the  author  of  Grace  Hale  Il- 
lustrated      65 

GUYON'S  LETTERS.  Translated  by  Mrs.  Prof. 
Upham.     16mo.    Illust 60 

THE  FLOUNCED  ROBE  AND  WHAT  IT  COST. 
By  Miss  H.  B.  McKeever,  authoress  of  Will  Col- 
lins, etc  A  book  of  surj^assing  interest  and  power. 
12mo.     184pp.     Illust 60 

THE  LITTLE  MOUNTAIN  GUIDE,  or  How  to  be 
Happy.     ISmo.      Illustrated 50 

THE  GOLDEN  MUSHROOM.  By  the  author  of  the 
Watercress  Sellers.    Illustrated 50 

THE  SUNBEAM,  and  other  Stories.  Beautifully  il- 
lustrated      50 

UNCLE  JABEZ,  or  the  History  of  a  Man  whose  Boy- 
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illustrations 50 

HANNAH  LEE,  or  Walking  in  the  Light.  Hlust. ...     50 


CATALOGUE  OF  BOOKS. 


ALICE  HAVEN.    A  book  for  girls.      By  tlie  author 

of  Grace  Hale,  Carrie  Allison,  etc.    Illus 30 

THE  TELESCOPE.    An  Allegory.    Filled  with  Bible 

truth,  and  clothed  in  beautiful  imagery.     Illus 25 

LEONARD  DOBBIN,  or  the  One  Moss  Rose.  Illus..  25 
KITTY'S  KNITTING-NEEDLES.     A  book  for  girls. 

Illus..... • 25 

THE  FOX  HUNTER.    A  work  of  unspeakable  value 

to  disciples.     By  Dr.  Malan 25 

NED,  THE  SHEPHERD  BOY,  changed  to  the  Young 

Christian.     lUus 25 

WILLIE  AND  CHARLIE,  or  the  Way  to  be  happy. 

Illus...., 25 

JANE  THORNE,  or  the  Head  and  the  Heart.  Illus . .  25 
JENNIE  CARTER,  or  Trust  in  Qod.    By  Catherine 

D.Bell.    Illus 25 

PHILIP  AND  BESSIE,  or  Wisdom's  Way.  Illus. . . .  25 
THE  SABBATH  SCHOOL  CONCERT,  or  Children's 

Meeting.    Its  History,  Advantages,  and  Abuses, 

with  approved  mode  of  conducting  it 25 

LEAVING  HOME.     By  the  author  of  Capt.  Russel's 

Watchword,  Ellen  Dacre,  Old  Red  House,  Blind 

Ethan,  etc.    Illus 25 

LITTLE  JERRY,  The  Ragged  tlrchin,  and  under 

what  Teachings  he  was  Reclaimed  from  the  Street. 

Idas 25 


10  CATALOGUE  OF  BOOKS. 

j  THE  BELII.VING  TRADESMAN,  an  autlionticstory, 
'  ami  a  Avouderf'ul  illui-tration  of  the  power  of  faith. 
j       It  has  few  parallels  iu  history,     lllus 25 

I  THE  SUNDAY  EXCURSION,  and  what  caraeof  it.  A 
j       timely  work.    Illus ...     25 

!  BLIND  ETHAN.     By  the  author  of  Capt.  Rutsel'a 

'■       Watchword.     lUus 25 

ROBERT  RAIKES,  the  founder  of  Sabbath  Schools 
j       By  Rev.  Dr.  Cornell.  An  entirely  new  and  original 
j       work.    Elegantly  illustrated 25 

SONGS  FOR  THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  AND  VES- 

!       TRY 20 

I  BENNY'S  BIRDS.    lUus 25 

I  STOLEN  GOLD  PIECE.    Illus 25 

lALICEFIELD.    Illus  25 

SEALING  THE  SPIRIT 20 

•  THE  REMEMBERED  PRAYER.     A  charming  juve- 
nile.     Illus 20 

SHIPS  IN  THE  ^nST.    By  the  author  of  Similitudes, 
etc.      Hlus 20 

LAZY  STEPHEN,   and  what  made  him  a  valuable 
Man.     Illus 20 

THE  LOST  HALF  CROV/N.     A  charming  juvenile. 
Fully  illustrated 20 

TOM  MATHER  AND  THE  LOSi'  PURSE.  Reveal- 
j  ing  the  Y/orkings  of  Conscience  in  a  Little  Boy's 
j       mind.     Illus  20 


CATALOGUE  OF    BOOKS.  11    I 

JESSIE  AT  THE  SPRING,  and  Other  Stories.      De-  | 

signed  for  chikh-en  and  j'outh 20  i 

THE  LIGHTHOUSE  KEEPER'S  DAUGHTER.    A  | 

charming  example  of  Christian  faith  in  a  child.  Ill    20  ' 

WILLIE  WILSON.     A  dear  child  was  Willie.     The  I 

story  and  its  associations  speak  for  themselves.    Ill    20  \ 

THE  YOUNG  RECRUITING  SERGEANT.  The  mind  > 
of  a  little  child  sometimes  exercises  a  potential  in- 
fluence over  that  of  an  adult.    Illus  20 

YES  AND  NO.      Two  very  hard  words  to  speak  in  j 

the  light  of  a  temptation.    Illus 20 

TOM  BRIAN  IN  TROUBLE  Much  easier  is  it  to 
get  out  of  it.  This  story  is  a  practical  commentary 
on  a  great  truth.    Illus 28 

DREAAHNG  AND  DOING,  and  Other  Stories.  Great 
truths  in  life  experiences.      Illus 20 

SANCTIFICATION.      By  Rev.  J.  Q.  Adams 20 

THE  HANDCUFFS,  or  the  Deserter.     lUus 15 

THE  LUNATIC  AND  HIS  KEEPER,  and othernarra- 
tives.    Illus 15 

MUST  I  NOT  STRIVE?  or  the  Poor  Man's  Dinner. 
Illus 15 

THE  LOST  TICKET,  or  Is  your  Life  Insured  ?    Illus.  15 

THE  CHILD  ANGEL.     Illus 15 

THE  DREAM   OF  HEAVEN.     A  narrative  work   of 

touching  interest .    Tenth  thousand 15 

SUNBEAMS  FOR  HUMAN  HEARTS 15 


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